Fight For the One You Love
by Historyman101
Summary: Part 2 of my historical fanfic series, this time following the two young lovers in the Normandy invasion and the months leading to it. Some characs OOC, others OC. Some ages changed. RXE DominicXAnemone little HollandXTalho scene at end. R&R if you please
1. Chapter 1: Friendships and Growing Love

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eureka Seven or anything Eureka Seven related (besides if I did, I would continue the series and make a movie, which Bones doesn't want to do.).

WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOU HAVE NOT YET READ THE FIRST STORY IN MY SERIES, _How to Save a Life_.

In the last great invasion of the last great war, one boy and one girl will fight to protect each other.

Renton and Eureka live peacefully in their little home in Belleforest, California during the tumultuous Second World War. Eureka lives through Renton's daily life and meets some memorable and humorous characters along the way.

The second installment in the Eureka Seven historical fanfic series...

**Fight for the One You Love**

**By Jordan Harms**

**Chapter One**

**February 17th, 1943 **

The sun rose over the misty mountains of the Marin headlands and cast its early morning light into the sleepy valley town. He was the first in the house to open his eyes to the light. It shone through the windows and cast long shadows of the chair and furniture on the floor, like great specters clinging to an old burial ground. He tried to move only to find that Eureka was still in his arms. Now he could view her beauty up close.

Her hair was brown earth spread over his chest and spilt over the sides of the couch. The skin was snow white, a leftover of her hard life in Russia. Her lips were pink, not blood red like Jane's were. He thought not of the blood of the dead Germans when he saw those lips but only of her. He smiled as she stirred and moaned softly. He had done the right thing by bringing her here, even if he left Vladimir, Holland and the others behind. She was safe here. He looked closely to notice that she was smiling. That little smile he had known when he was twelve was back; he brought it back. The sun breaking through the window almost made the smile grow wider. Liberty's Sun was smiling down on these two young Americans, and God was smiling on them. Two young people, destined for great things in this land, lay there in perfect serenity.

He wriggled his arm out and looked at his alarm clock which he had set on a little table next to the couch. It was ten after seven. He had to wake the others up so they would not be late for church. He looked back down on his little companion, and almost felt a pain to wake her when she looked so peaceful. Still, he thought, duty and obligation come before personal feelings. He was about to plant a kiss on her lips when her snow grey eyes fluttered open and met his soft green.

"Good morning, Renton", she whispered sleepily.

"Hello, Eureka."

Eureka moved around so she was lying on Renton's side, looking deep into his caring sympathetic green eyes. She smiled, showing her pearly white teeth, which looked to him to be shining diamonds. He stroked her cheek and ran his fingers through her silk soft hair.

"Smooth," he said quietly. "Smooth, like silk."

Eureka smiled wider and rubbed her face against his cheek. It was rough (she noticed he had started getting a shadow), but not so much as to hurt her.

"Smooth," she said, laughing quietly. "Smooth, like emery paper."

"Is it rough?"

"No Renton, dear. Just teasing you." They looked at each other for a moment, and Renton began wriggling himself out from under the sheets.

"We got to go, little Eureka. Church is today."

"Please stay for a little while longer?" she said turning a small frown.

"All right," he relented, smiling. The smile he knew so well came immediately back to Eureka's sweet face.

"We can't stay for long. We _do_ have church today."

"I know, but I'm too much in love with you to let you go," she said laughing.

"Are you sure you love me, Eureka?"

"Of course, Renton. Very sure. I've never been surer about anything in my whole life. I love you, Renton, and I love only you." Renton smiled. "Do you love me Renton?"

"I love you like a sister." She smiled at that. She loved him like he was family. Neither of them could imagine not being there for them, always.

"Darling?" she asked kindly.

"Hmm?"

"You will be good to me, won't you?"

"Of course I will, Eureka."

"You will, won't you? Because we are going to have a very strange life." he looked her in the eyes, puzzled.

"Strange?" She smiled, again showing her diamond teeth.

"But, darling, it's the only life I want." He kissed her as he ran his fingers through her hair again, reveling in the feeling of desire for her, want for nothing but her. About five minutes of just staring in one another's eyes the two of them stepped off the couch to get the others ready for church.

»»»»»

Around twelve in the afternoon Renton and the others had gone into town to "raise a ruckus", as Renton put it. He had other ideas though.

"Come with me," he said to Eureka in a low voice. "There's a place I want to show you."

"Where?"

"Just follow me and you'll understand soon enough."

Renton took the young girl's hand and led her back to his home. But they did not go inside; instead he took her onto a winding dirt trail, passing through forests and meadows, viewing deep valleys covered with tall trees. Birds often flew out by the flocks. There were so many birds that they actually blotted out the sun. Eureka had never seen so many birds. She was absorbed by the sights, the sounds, the smells of this new part of her home. This was nature. This was the outdoors.

Finally they came upon a high mountain, with a decaying water tower at the summit. They climbed up the slope and finally came upon the summit, which was a flat plateau with underbrush and one lone oak tree.

"Eureka," he said, "look out there, and tell me what you see."

She stepped forward to the edge and saw the grandest sight her eyes ever beheld. She saw houses and roads, crisscrossing each other and stretching out to the horizon, a gateway to the unknown. She saw the sea, deep and blue, filled with ships and sailing boats. She looked closely to see a shipyard, where hundreds of workers, too small to see, worked away tirelessly building the Liberty Ships that were so essential to victory. On the roads she saw cars, beeping their horns and speeding through the streets, blood flowing along the veins that linked this town together with others. Towns, filled with people the size of ants, filled her vision. She looked out to sea to view the city of San Francisco, covered with a blanket of fog. It was magnificent. She turned away, almost ashamed to look upon something so colossal, so beautiful, so grand.

She looked up to Renton who stood staring at the horizon, the wind flapping at his grey trench coat, sending his ash blonde hair into dancing with the rhythm of the wind. He didn't feel the wind, nor smell the cold air. He only stood there, looking out across to the open ocean, where Russia lay beyond.

"It's so beautiful," she said, in awe of what she had seen.

"It is, isn't it?" He turned to her and smiled wistfully. He had a sort of sadness in his face, for what she couldn't understand.

"This," he said, "is our land, our home. This is a land of peace and plenty. A land of happiness and hope. This is our land. This is our home. And we," he said, putting his arm over her shoulder, "are the proud people of this land. We are the workers, the strivers, the builders. We are the leaders of the free world."

"Renton," she said, turning forward to face him, "why did you want to show me this?"

"Because this is our home. The world you and I live in. You see, Eureka," he said, walking forward to the edge of the plateau, "we are only a small part of a vast country, one that extends from here to the Atlantic Ocean. We are only a small cog in a large wheel. But…each of us has a role to play in this country of ours, and every part, no matter how small, is essential for this country to function. You and I, Eureka, are only two little parts of a larger system, and yet we are still so important."

Eureka smiled. She knew exactly what he meant. Every person counted in this country. Every one had a part to play, and no matter how small it was, they were still a vital section of a large country. That was what made the free society.

"You're so wonderful when you talk like that," she said, drawing closer to him. Renton smiled and placed his arm around Eureka, the two of them looking out over their home, their land. This world was theirs, and no one else's. The whole world seemed to be just laid before them, theirs, ready for the taking. All was theirs and theirs alone.

"Are we interrupting something?"

Renton and Eureka jumped and turned around in a shock. It was Dominic, wearing a light blue sweater, brown knickerbockers, black socks and dirty grey shoes. Coming up close behind him was Anemone, wearing a red skirt, flapping and flying in the cold wind, and silver shoes.

"Hi, lovebirds! How're you two doin'?"

"What in the hell are you two doing here?!" said Renton, angry that they had intruded on a private moment.

"Just thought maybe we oughtta come up an' see what the world looks like from up here!" Dominic laughed, throwing back his jet black hair and almost falling down the slope.

"We never expected to find _you two_ here!" Anemone said teasingly.

"What've you been up to?" said Dominic raising an eyebrow and cracking a smile. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Shut up, Dom!" Dominic laughed again, almost to the point of tears. "You followed us here, didn't you?"

"Nope. Honest to God, Renton, I've never seen you get so worked up! There's nothin' wrong with having a little girlfriend." Renton's face grew red, and Dominic fell down laughing. Who did they think they were, coming up and barging in on them like that? He brought her up here to show her something truly important! And they have the nerve to think that he would take her up here just to…to…

Renton ran up to Dominic and tackled him and the two were engaged in a friendly scuffle. Ultimately Renton had him in a position where he could've rolled him like a log down the hill. Dominic raised his hands and said, "I surrender! I surrender!" The two then got up and brushed off the dirt they had collected from being on the ground. Dominic and Anemone said to each other, with a smirk on both their faces, "We better get outta here, or he'll throw us off the cliff!" They took each other's hand and walked down the opposite side of the slope.

Renton sighed, exasperated. Finally they're gone, he thought. Now he could be alone with her. He took her hand and the two of them lay down on the slope, letting themselves be absorbed by the bed of hay and wheat covering the forward slope. They looked up, into the beautiful blue sky, where they could see clouds in all sorts of shapes. Eureka snuggled up to Renton and let him wrap the two of them in his trench coat. They stared into each other's eyes, letting each be lost with love, adoration, and longing for the other.

"Renton?" said Eureka quietly, with a small smile on her face.

"Hmm?" he mumbled.

"Who were those two?"

"Those people who interrupted us?"

Eureka nodded.

"Oh, just some friends from school. The boy's Dominic Sorel, but we all call him Dom. His little lady friend is Anemone Doolittle. They've been going steady now for about a year."

"Going steady?" she asked in confusion, her innocent eyes looking into his.

"Dating," he explained. "Lovers…something like you and I. They're like us."

Eureka shook her head, and rested her head on his. "No one is like us, Renton."

"You're right," he said knowingly. "And no other person in the world is like you." She smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. They weren't chapped anymore, as they had been when she first kissed them. The weather was so cold back then that his lips were literally dried up. Not anymore. They were soft, and warm. She placed her pillow soft hand on his smooth pink cheek as she closed her eyes and reveled in the euphoria they were sharing. She wanted this kiss to last a lifetime.

Dominic and Anemone went to the other side of the summit and sat under the decaying water tower, far enough away from Renton and Eureka for them to not notice. Dom, officially known as Dominic, was a city boy from San Francisco with jet black hair and grey eyes. He had lived in the city for most of his life and had to raise himself since his father was fighting the war and his mother had run off with a man from Los Angeles. He made his home in a little apartment in downtown Mill Valley, where he had Anemone as his roommate. Anemone and Dominic had known each other since elementary school, and grown fond of each other by the time Dominic was 15 and she was 14. Ever since then they had been dating. Dominic was one of Renton's friends; they had known each other since 5th grade, and he shared Renton's love for military history and military science. He loved it enough to be a civil volunteer at the Presidio Army base in San Francisco.

"They go well together, don't they?" Dominic said, smiling, looking down at Anemone.

"They certainly do." Anemone smiled and rested her head in Dominic's lap. "How long have they known each other?"

"The last time I talked to him, he said he first met her when he was twelve and she was nine."

"That young?"

"Yeah. He went on a trip through Europe with his father before the war broke out. He was going to go home with his father on a ship, but there was engine trouble and he was delayed for three weeks, and that's how he met her!" The two laughed.

"Does he really love her?"

"Anyone can see that, Anemone. He blows his top whenever someone brings up the subject! The important thing is does _she_ love _him_?"

"She has every reason to. He saved her. He brought her here. He helped her become an American citizen. Why wouldn't she love him?"

"You're right. He's a hero…a real hero."

»»»»»

**February 20th, 1943 **

He had left her in the house alone, since he had to go to work at the pharmacy that morning. The others had decided to go home, thinking three days was enough for a sleepover. Eureka, however, was curious to explore her new home.

She walked out the back door and into the wide open space that lay beyond. There was a large wheat field that expanded out over the hill that lay behind the little row of houses. The wheat swayed and danced in the wind to the tune of a chilly February morning. There was a lone cypress tree out on the top of the hill, its leaves dancing with the wind. There was not a soul in sight. Not one human, not even a deer or a fox was there. She was all alone, but she was not frightened nor did she feel sad. This was a chance, she thought. This was her chance to see more of her neighborhood. She might as well ought to, since she was a member of this little community.

She walked out across the wheat field and up the steep slope of the hill and reached the lone cypress. She was surprised to find Anemone, sitting alone under the shade of the cypress, playing with her pug dog. Anemone looked up to see Eureka. She smiled and said, "Good morning Eureka."

"Good morning Anemone."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing, really."

"Where's Renton?"

"He's at his job, at the pharmacy."

"Oh. Why'd you come all the way up here?"

"No reason. I just wanted to see a little of my new home." Anemone smiled. She liked Eureka. Innocent, sweet, caring, always wanting to do what's right.

"Sit with me for a while; I want to talk with you."

Eureka sat down next to Anemone and looked at her pug.

"Oh!" said Anemone, noticing Eureka staring at her dog. "Let me introduce you to my dog. His name is Gulliver. Say hello to Eureka, Gulliver."

The dog yipped in reply and wagged his tail. Eureka and Anemone laughed.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" asked Eureka.

"Oh, yes! That's right! How do you know Renton, Eureka?" Eureka blushed slightly.

"Well, it's a long story…"

"Good. I like long stories," said Anemone cheerily, taking Gulliver in her lap. Eureka smiled.

"Renton and I met about five years ago, when he and his father were traveling through Europe. His father had taken him to see Russia as a last part of the trip. They had come down to Stalingrad originally to board a ship that was bound for home, but…" she laughed at the next part, "…there was engine trouble on the ship, and they were delayed for three weeks!" Anemone laughed as she rested her head against the trunk of the cypress.

"Anyway, they needed a place to stay until the ship was fixed, and so my family said they could stay with us." She blushed slightly. She was uncovering old memories, stories of childhood, feelings she hadn't felt in a while.

"What would you do with him?"

"We had a little tree house out in the woods, and I would sometimes take him out there to play games of 'truth or dare' or share secrets. He taught me how to speak English, or I would listen to him talk about life in America. Renton and the boys always liked to play war-games and they would fight against the children from the other neighborhood."

"Y'know," said Anemone politely, realizing she had interrupted, "Dominic likes to play war games too. He's always dragging me out onto the front lawn to do what he calls 'field drill'. He would have me march around and around, and he would have me do manual of arms using a broomstick!"

Anemone laughed and Eureka laughed with her.

"Renton made an excellent soldier. His father's in the Marines, you know."

"So is Dominic's father. Well, actually, he's in the regular Army." There was a slight awkward silence. "He's a volunteer at the Presidio army base. He's one of the best."

"Does he want to go into the Army?" Anemone rested her head against the tree, thinking.

"Well, he's often thought about it. He _would_ make a good soldier, but…" Anemone shook her head. "He's not old enough, and the war might be over by the time he's 18."

"God willing," said Eureka solemnly. Anemone nodded in agreement.

"Yes. God willing. I couldn't bear it if he was wounded or killed. Did Peter see any fighting?"

"He did. He got a medal, you know."

"Really?" asked Anemone, wide-eyed.

"Yes. He dragged a wounded man to safety while under machine gun fire. He was awarded the Red Star."

"He never told us."

"He doesn't like talking about the fighting."

"Why?"

"He had to kill." Eureka hung her head down. She felt his pain, the guilt of killing hanging over her, a great shadow following her and her Renton wherever they went. She felt the same pain, even if she never had to kill. Anemone decided it was best not to talk about the fighting. She had something better.

"Eureka," she began, "do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"That depends. What is it?"

"Do…do you…" she staggered. It felt embarrassing asking her about it. Eureka eyed her, patiently waiting. "Do you love Renton?"

Eureka smiled as her cheeks turned rose red. She looked up above her into the tree. She closed her eyes and imagined Renton beside her, and breathed a happy sigh. "Yes, I do. I do love him. He's been so kind to me; bringing me here, making me an American citizen, leading me out of Russia…all he's done for me, all he's sacrificed. I have every reason to."

Anemone smiled. She knew it. She could see it in her face, the happiness in her eyes, the cheer in her smile; it was obvious. "Renton loves you, you know. Everyone knows he's crazy about you."

"Is he _that_ obvious?" Eureka laughed.

"Every time someone asks, he throws a fit!" The two of them fell on the ground laughing, kicking their heels in the air.

"He always _was_ one to get his dander up. I remember one time in the war-games that Ken-Goh had come back from a failed attack against an enemy position and Renton went into a tirade! He said, 'there's only one way for an attack to go: forward! Success lies in the advance; disaster lurks in the rear!' He nearly threw Ken-Goh out of the headquarters, but we kept that from happening; Renton was trying to get at him so he could kick him out but Holland and I held him down and said, 'Renton, you're a young man! Don't do it! Ken-Goh's the best you've got!' and he almost kicked Holland in the stomach but I backed him up against the wall, turned to Ken-Goh and stepped on his foot! Holland was yelling at me to help him with Renton, but I turned to Renton and said, 'there; I did the work for you!' Ken-Goh was jumping around on one foot and he fell over Renton and Holland and hit his head, knocked unconscious!"

Eureka rolled around on the ground laughing, and Anemone let go of Gulliver to hold her side as she laughed uncontrollably. The two soon regained their composure and sat up under the cypress.

"You know," said Eureka, laughing but slightly calmer, "that was the last day before Renton boarded the ship with his father and headed home. I still remember what happened that day; my family had gone to the docks to see him off, and Renton was going to each of us, saying goodbye. He got to me and you know what he said to me? He said, 'someday, Eureka, I'll come back. I'll come to you and your family and we'll all be together again. Nothing will change, Eureka. Just wait and I'll come back to you.' And then he boarded the ship and he left us, all standing there waving goodbye. He didn't come back for four years." Eureka was now completely composed and sighed longingly. That was such a long time ago, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. She had waited and waited ever since that day, and, despite everything, she still believed he would one day come. And he did.

They sat out for the entire day, watching the sky. At one point, Eureka got up and walked to the other edge of the hill, and saw her whole neighborhood. It was the most beautiful sight. The roads were long snakes, winding and turning every which way and continuing on into the horizon, leading to parts unknown. Houses dotted the whole landscape, the way the freckles dotted Renton's caring face. She could see the church, whitewash with a steeple and a tall spire with a golden cross, the cross of Jesus. She looked farther to see the downtown area. There was the old railroad depot, with the large terrace where old men would play chess and checkers and where young children would play and laugh, free of all the cares in the world. She saw the soda shop, where she had the good fortune of meeting Renton's friends, who had been so kind and welcoming. She could even see the school, where Renton went each day, with a clock tower and a large terrace out front. This was Belleforest. This was her home. From here she could see her little town that she had the good fortune of living in its full glory.

"Looks nice, doesn't it?" said Anemone, still sitting under the tree. She had seen it before.

"It sure does," replied Eureka, smiling. This was her home. She was so glad she lived here. She sat down with her legs crossed, looking out over the town. It was so beautiful to see her home in its entirety. It was a wonderful feeling, looking out over everything, but it would be better if Renton was with her.

The two young girls sat for a long while, just enjoying the sights and sounds of nature, as the Sun sunk lower in the sky. Eureka then saw something moving up the hill. It wasn't Renton, since he had no trench coat. The figure moved closer up the hill, heading in her direction. It was Dominic, wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with red suspenders and grey knickerbockers.

"Hiya, Anemone!"

"Hiya, Dominic!" Anemone got up from the shade of the cypress and embraced him, laughing.

"What've you been doin' up here, all by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not alone. Eureka's with me." She pointed to Eureka, still looking out over the beautiful landscape.

"Did you two talk?" he asked coyly.

"Yes. She told me a lot, more than _you_ can ever get outta Renton!"

"Like what?"

"Renton's a soldier, like you want to be."

"So what else is new?"

"He got a medal."

"Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm. He ran out to get a wounded man under machine gun fire."

"That's bravery for you."

"Eureka's a nice girl, Dominic. Renton's lucky to have her." The two of them looked back to Eureka, who was still looking outward.

"He sure is. And I'm lucky I got you." the two young lovers smiled and kissed. They walked down the slope, but not before Anemone said to Eureka, "It was nice talking to you." Eureka smiled and waved goodbye as the two figures faded into the distance, being followed closely by Gulliver. Eureka stayed out for a while, enraptured with the splendid view. The sun went down and night fell upon the little town. The houses and stores lit up, brightening the night, and Eureka was more than ever entranced by the view. After a while she heard something from behind her, someone moving to her. She turned around to see it was Renton.

Renton was in his nightclothes, draped in a flannel robe and wearing slippers. His soft green eyes glinted in the moonlight, showing their care and kindness. His face was silhouetted against the moonlight, shrouding it in partial darkness. But she could still see his small contented smile.

"Have you been out here all day?" He asked quietly. Eureka smiled and nodded.

"It would've been so much better if you were with me." A cold wind whipped through, sending their hair into dancing with the wind's rhythm, and giving them goose bumps.

"It's getting cold," he said. "We should get inside."

Eureka nodded and followed him back into the house. After a quick bath, she had changed into her white nightgown. She always looked beautiful in her nightgown. She looked like an angel. Renton had lain down on the sofa and had pulled the sheet over his head when Eureka came to him and asked, "Renton?"

"Yes, Eureka?"

"Why don't you sleep in your bed with me?"

"I gave up that bed for you, Eureka." A small frown formed on her face.

"Please, Renton? I would like it if you were with me."

Renton sighed and smiled. He couldn't stand to see her sad.

"Okay." The smile he was so familiar with came back in an instant. The two of them went into his old room and climbed into the little bed, and wrapped themselves around each other. They found warmth this cold night in each other's arms.

"I love you, Renton."

"I love you too, Eureka."

The young lovers fell asleep as the moon rose higher in the sky, as the wind threw the wheat and cypress tree into dancing with the cold night, and as the lights of the houses, one by one, went out, leaving the whole neighborhood in darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: Loyalty

A/N: This is the revised chapter two, done at my leisure. The first version I was too heavy with religion, and I want to make this the best story possible and more relevant to Renton's feelings for Eureka. Please read this for the love of God.. I have updated the chapter into the original story and even changed the title, but I am posting this as sort of a stand alone chapter (not for long though). I wish to thank Guardian of the Hell Gate and Ilasir Marora for their insight on their part. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**May 12****th****, 1943**

Not much had happened, with the exception of the weather becoming incredibly hot. Renton was busier than ever, with the school year winding down; this puzzled Eureka somewhat. Why should the work be more intense as the end draws near?

"They always do that to us," Renton said. "They make us work harder so that they can prepare us for final exams and so they can give us a taste of next year."

"It oughtn't to be like that."

"You're probably right, y'know. Next year when I'm a junior, I'll talk with Mr. Wood to see if he can change the policy."

"You do that. You're always so good talking to people, just like you're good at everything else you do." Eureka and Renton smiled. He loved it when she talked like that. Renton went for his flat cap hanging on the coat rack and started for the door.

"Where are _you_ going in such a hurry?" Eureka asked playfully.

"I've finished my work for the night; I'm off to the soda shop. You wanna come with me?" Eureka smiled in reply and followed him out. They walked downtown and went into the soda shop. There was big band music blaring from the jukebox as Renton and Eureka took two barstools.

"Two cokes, please," he called.

Immediately Hap dispensed two cokes for the two of them. Renton immediately paid up: ten cents for two. Renton and Eureka quietly sipped their cokes, eyeing all in the soda shop. Renton spied Dominic and Anemone at a booth, sipping a root beer float. He also saw Moondoggie with a date; a 15-year-old brown-haired girl named Annette, or Gidget, as he heard others call her, from his English class. Coming towards them was Jane, wearing her blue skirt and pink ribbon in her flowing blonde hair.

Jane decided not wait around anymore. She had to make a move, or she would lose him. It had to be now, tonight. She had put on perfume, rouge, and mascara, along with some lipstick that made her blood red lips stand out; all to entice him more. She was lucky; Eureka stepped out for a bit of fresh air, leaving her alone with Renton. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He breathed in deeply her perfume, which reminded him faintly of fresh-cut spring flowers.

"Where is all _this_ coming from?" he said, not looking up at her.

"I want to play a game with you," she whispered in his ear.

"What kind of game?"

"A _fun_ game."

"What do I get if I win?"

"Me."

"What happens if I lose?"

"We'll figure _that_ out when it happens. Come with me; there's a special place where we can play."

He followed her into a hallway where the restrooms were supposed to be. She pressed him against the wall and kissed him hard smearing the blood-red lipstick on his face. Her kiss was so different from Eureka's. Eureka's was sweet and soft, butterfly touches on his lips that were always slightly dried or chapped, healing them. Jane's was forceful, her lips pressing hard against his. Their lips were two large ships crashing into each other on a foggy night. She tugged at his dress shirt, trying to unbutton the collar and two top buttons, pushing him into a custodian's closet. She broke apart from him, breathing heavily for lack of oxygen. Renton buttoned up his collar and two top buttons.

"Is this part of the game?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Yes."

"What comes after this?" She forced him onto the ground and lay on top of him, smiling, trying to lift up his shirt, absolutely lost in her lust for him. Every time she tried to lift up his shirt or unbutton his buttons, he would always pull it back down, and button up his buttons again. She decided not to press the matter and instead lay on his side.

"How is she?" she asked enticingly.

"What?" he responds, in complete bewilderment.

"She must be good, so…how is she?"

"Good at what?" He was at a complete loss at what she meant.

"She loves you enough. Have you two, you know…?" she whispered. He knew in an instant what she was getting at. Renton scowled at her.

"What makes you think I would do _that_ to her?" he said angrily.

"Renton, everyone _knows_ how much you love her, so I don't understand why you two haven't had…"

"Don't you know anything? I would _never_ do that to her! I would never take advantage of her like that! In any case, it's a sin!"

"Sin?" she laughed. "Bother religion and morality! Don't you love her?"

"I do."

"Then why won't you?"

"It goes against my principles. Premarital relations like that are sins!"

"But when does all that talk about morality and virginity go out the window?" she asked, smiling coyly.

"It doesn't. It never does." She rose and sat up, fixing her mussed up hair and adjust her pink ribbon. She never thought of him highly religious. She thought things like that wouldn't concern him.

"You mean to tell me you're a virgin?" she asked shockingly.

"Of course I am. I'd rather set myself aside for marriage than rush her into anything."

"You're sounding like Donald," she said, with an air of disappointment.

"What do you mean?" This was a side of her he had never seen. He thought she was smart enough to understand something like this.

"You don't even have the guts to do _it_…" She started to laugh.

"With you?" She smiled enticingly.

"Yes."

"Is that what this game of yours is?"

"Yes, and you win if you do it with me."

"Don't waste your breath. If there is anyone in this world that I would want to do _that_ with, it is Eureka. Why would I do it with you?" She crept closer, her hair falling delicately on his chest and around his neck, a great sheath of water no longer able to be held back by the dam, just like her lust for him, which grew with each passing moment.

"Because I love you, Renton, my dear." His eyes widened as he stepped back, pressing up against the wall.

"Could you repeat that, Jane? There was something crazy in my ear!" She smiled slightly and laughed quietly.

"Oh stop it, Renton. You heard me," she continued, inching closer to him. "I love you, Renton Thurston." She kissed him hard, smearing the red lipstick on his face. This time however, he pulled back, pushing her away. This was not right, he thought. This was not right. He shouldn't be here. What the hell am I doing, he thought, necking with Jane like this? What am I doing here? I should be home, with Eureka. I'm only fit to do this with her. I must be out of my nut! All the same, how could she love me? Her, of all people! I've known her only for a while, and she already clings to me, a hook barely holding on to a caught fish.

"Don't touch me," he said coldly.

"Why ever not, darling?"

"Will you cut that out?! Don't you know I'm in love with Eureka?! Stop clinging to me!"

"What's Eureka got that I don't?" Jane said, still not wanting to give in. He cast an icy stare at her as she tried to get on top of him.

"She has everything. Innocence, a pure heart, honesty, integrity. That's what I love about her. I love her, and if there was anyone I wanted to have sex with, it would be her. I am hers, and no one else's. Get that into your head before anything else."

"Why won't you do it with me?!" she said, starting to lose her patience.

"Because I love only Eureka!" he said angrily.

"Bother her!" she snapped. "Don't you ever have any fun?"

"DON'T YOU DARE CURSE MY EUREKA'S NAME!" She forced him onto the ground and desperately tried to lift up his shirt, smiling.

"I'm a girl who likes to have some fun. And I want you to have some fun with me!" she said seductively.

"If you're asking me to 'have some fun', don't waste your breath. I am committed only to Eureka! Get used to it!" She sat up again and turned away from him. He's so stubborn, she thought.

"Do you like hurting me?" she said disappointedly.

"Do you _think_ I like hurting you? What is wrong with you? Don't you have any sense of self respect?!" she turned to him, wide-eyed.

"Renton, I love you." He stood up. He was now more infuriated than ever. How dare she curse Eureka! Who does she think she is?! This was where he draws the line.

"Shut up, Jane! This isn't right," he said, with a dark look in his eyes. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong! I'm going home. You may do as you wish, Jane, but _this_ puts an end to our friendship!"

She looked up to him, still on the floor. From where she was, he looked…commanding. He seemed to be a god, a tall god looking down disappointedly on a world filled with evil and decadence. This was a sin, and he knew it. He was a man of character, she knew that now. He was a man of integrity, a man of morality.

"Renton, don't leave," she said enticingly. "I love you." He looked down on her, his green eyes piercing through the dimly lit closet. His eyes threw daggers at her, each one hitting their mark, piercing deeply into her very soul.

"Don't you have any shame? Have you no sense of decency?"

"Decency?! Since when does religion and morality enter into when you can have se—"

"Have you no moral fiber?!" he snapped, his eyes piercing further into the dark. "For the love of Christ, Jane, Show some self-respect! Show some restraint!"

He went for the door, and slowly turned it, bringing in a heavenly light into the dark closet. He stepped out, turned to her and whispered coldly, "Goodbye forever, Jane Hart, and may God forgive you!" he slammed the door and walked into the men's restroom to wash off the lipstick, leaving her alone in the dark.

She sat there alone in the darkness, wallowing in her defeat. She had failed. She waited too long. Dammit, she cursed to herself. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! She scoffed at the words he spoke: sin, morality, decency, integrity. Bah! When you love someone, doesn't all that talk about morality and staying a virgin go out the window? So stubborn, she thought. He doesn't even want to do it! In any case, it was clear that his affections were for Eureka. She felt dejected, ashamed. All she wanted to do was go home and cry herself to sleep. She rose uneasily from her place on the floor, and dejectedly dragged her feet across the floor as she walked home.

He wiped away all the smeared lipstick from his face. He rubbed his hands in the sink, harder and harder, trying to cleanse himself of the sin he had taken part in. he rubbed his hands so hard they started to chafe and the skin chipped away. He was so ashamed of himself. Lecher, he scolded himself. Lecher! Player! Two-timer! What are you thinking of, taking part in such self-indulgence, such decadence, such waste! Have you no restraint?! Have you no sense of self-control?! Where is your sense of decency? He started to recite the prayer for the forgiveness of sins, ashamed of himself for what he had taken part in: Lord, I confess I have sinned against you in thought word and deed, by what I have done and by what I have left undone. I have not loved you with my whole heart and I have not loved my neighbors as myself. I am truly sorry and I humbly repent. For the sake of your son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and forgive me, so I may delight in your will and walk in your ways to the glory of your name. Amen.

He threw some water on his face, washing away the excess lipstick he had not washed away. He stood up, and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw a boy with ash blonde hair, matted and slightly unkempt. The eyes were grass green, brooding and troubled, wishing for forgiveness and redemption. The mouth had a small frown, drooping, slightly open so as to show a small part of his white teeth, gleaming in the light of the boys' restroom. The face was a little hollow, the bones showing in the cheeks; he had not eaten much. He breathed heavily as he stared into the reflection. You are too hard on yourself, he thought. You didn't do anything. It wasn't your fault; she tempted you, and you went along with it. You still have your virginity. Forgive yourself. The power to forgive is a sign of strength. He remembered a quotation from the Bible, Isaiah 1:18, which brought him some relief: "'Come now, and let us reason together', saith the Lord. 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'" Whatever you do in this life is between you and God, and if you're sorry, he'll forgive you. His conscience was cleared, but he still felt somewhat ashamed that he fell for that trap.

He walked out the door and found Eureka, sitting where she was before she stepped out, before this God-awful mess came to be. He looked her in the eyes and said solemnly, "I'm tired. Let's go home."

Eureka could see that something was troubling him. Something is always troubling him, she thought. She knew that he could be a little agitated when people asked if he had a problem. A regrettable habit, but he tried obviously to get the better of it.

"Is something the matter, Renton?" she asked kindly.

"I just want to go home," he said again, hanging his head down and shoving his hands into his pockets. She could tell he was very depressed about something.

"Did something bad happen while I was gone?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

She took his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze, looking up sincerely into his green eyes, which had an air of want for forgiveness.

"Tell me what happened, please?"

"Didn't I just say I'd rather not talk about it?" he said, with slight annoyance in his voice.

She decided not to press the matter further. She had seen this before in him. He would always try to deal with problems on his own, since the thing that had happened had happened to him. He was always like that at first, just after whatever incident had come to pass. But after a day when he had gathered himself, he was ready to talk. She knew that. He was not one to keep secrets from someone, especially her. He was always very open, something about him she loved.

They walked out of the soda shop and back to his little house on a hill. Throughout the time walking home she kept quiet, giving him some time to decompress from what had happened.

"Eureka?"

"What is it, darling? Ready to talk?"

"No. I just want to tell you I love you. I love you and only you. I love you more than anything. Know that. There's no one in this world I'd rather spend my life with." Eureka smiled and kissed him.

"I love you too, Renton, my darling."

That little confession helped a little, but he still felt abashed at cheating on her. At one point she laid her head on his shoulder, which always relaxed him.

"Is it safe now to ask you what happened?" she asked playfully, trying to ease his pressure. He looked down on her and smiled that same contented smile she knew from the first day she met him.

"Come back to me around tomorrow, and I'll tell you then." She smiled and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

They arrived back at the house when it was just starting to get dark. He wanted to try and sleep away the incident he had taken part in. hopefully by morning the guilt will be gone, he thought. She chose not to press him until morning or thereabouts to ask him what happened. He wasn't one to hide anything, she knew that. They slept separately that night (he needs his space when something bad happens to him, she thought), and all the bad feeling and self-hatred melted away as he heard her calm reassuring voice say, "It's alright. You are forgiven. It's alright. You are forgiven."

* * *

A/N: I hope this one was better than the original. Please Read and Review so I can regain some confidence. I wish to make something clear with this chapter. This was intended to be part of a story of Renton's love for Eureka and not a rant about religion or how people should behave. I let my morals get me carried away until it seemed to be something completely different, so...I apologize for that. Thank you all and may God bless you for being so kind. 

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever.


	3. Chapter 3: An Unexpected Visitor

**Chapter Three**

**June 20****th****, 1943**

School was out. "No more classes, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks", as the old rhyme went. He was now seventeen; his birthday was on the last day of school. There was a party, where all sang "For he's a jolly good fellow", and all danced, free of the cares of the world of adulthood, seeming blissfully unaware of the terrible war that occupied the papers, the radio, and the theaters. He got books for his birthday, including a military field manual from Dominic.

During the summer months the only things that occupied his time was his job at the pharmacy and Eureka. He had come out to her about what had happened that night, and he was forgiven by her, even though she told him, "You've done nothing wrong. There's no reason to ask for forgiveness."

"But I still can't believe I fell for that trap!"

"You didn't know it was a trap. You shouldn't be ashamed."

"The strange thing is I've only known her for a little while and she already says she loves me. Her, of all people! How can she say that when she has only known me for a while?"

"You have a way of charming people, Renton," she said, smiling coyly.

"What do you mean?"

"I have a secret to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I had a childish crush on you when you came here. I think, no, I know I loved you before I said it to. I think I've loved you since the day we met." The two of them blushed a deep crimson as he drew closer to her.

"Girls have flirted with me before," he admitted, "but I was too much of a workaholic to notice or care. Not until that night you said it to me."

"You care for me now, don't you, darling?"

"You know it Eureka," he whispered as he kissed her.

One day, a few days after school had ended and shortly after he returned from the pharmacy, she asked him to teach her how to shoot.

"Shoot? But I thought you promised me you wouldn't go into the army."

"I know, but I still want to learn."

He couldn't say no to her. He got out his old Springfield bolt-action rifle and took her outside to where there was a row of old rusted tin cans on a rail fence. He helped her handle the rifle.

"First you want to put the butt of the rifle tight into your shoulder." She followed this edict.

"Now, extend the other hand along the stock to support it." She tried to, but the rifle started to slip. He caught her hand, and helped her extend it, to the laughter of both of them. He got behind her and pointed to the sight.

"You aim along the barrel here, and uh…" he started to blush. "You don't mind my doing this do you?"

"If I did, why did I ask you to teach me?" she said, smiling. He smiled back and kissed her.

"Now," he continued, getting back to the lesson, "line up the sight with the target; the tin can." She awkwardly raised the rifle so she could see the can in her sight.

"Hold it steady." She wobbled it around, eventually steadying the rifle so it was relatively still. He stepped back a few steps.

"Ready?" She nodded.

"Aim." She tightened her hand on the trigger.

"Fire!"

Crack! The tin can fell off the fence. She lowered the gun as he applauded.

"Good shot!" She smiled as she handed back the rifle to Renton, who pulled the bolt back to reload. He set the rifle back in the house to find that Eureka was still outside. He went back to her.

"What's wrong, Eureka?" She put her two forefingers to his mouth.

"I thought I heard something." They were quiet for a moment. He did hear something. It sounded like a low moan, someone crying in pain. He suddenly flashbacked to that moment on one of his last missions in Stalingrad, the one that he never forgot…

_Flashback start_

"Advance!" Renton called. The company moved forward down the road, towards the German ammo depot, with Renton in the lead. They carried on for a few hundred meters when Petya called out, "MACHINE GUN! MG42! EVERYONE GET DOWN!"

He spoke too soon; immediately he went down with five machine gun bullets: one in both shoulders and three in the stomach. He hit the ground and rolled over on his back, crying in searing pain. The whole company scattered. Renton followed Ken-Goh and his men behind a broken wall. There was no clear idea of what to do. They had to make a move quick or they would be pinned down.

"Ken-Goh, I want you and your platoon to put suppressing fire on that MG42 while I go bring Petya back!"

Ken-Goh couldn't believe what he just heard. Was he serious?

"That's suicide, Renton! You'll be killed for sure!"

"We are NOT leaving him here! Now give some suppressing fire! That's an order!"

Ken-Goh had no choice but to obey his commander's orders. He called to his men for suppressing fire and soon his whole platoon was firing at the MG42. The other soldiers of the company followed suit and all the soldiers were firing.

Renton ran like the devil out to Petya, who was in the middle of the road, screaming his lungs hoarse. He was soon beside Petya, with bullets flying and whizzing all about him. He could see he was badly wounded, bleeding profusely from the shoulders and the stomach. He had to get him out of here and back to the aid station.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Petya screamed.

"You gotta be quiet!" Renton screamed back amidst the noise and chaos.

"FUCK YOU! I'M DYING! I'M DYING, RENTON!"

"Well, then, dammit, do it with less noise!" he started to lift him up, preparing to take him back.

"What're you doing? What're you doing, Renton?!"

"I'm going to take you back!" He lifted him up and placed him on his back, slowly trudging back to the broken wall, all the while listening Petya's gut-wrenching screams. He finally reached the wall and set him down on the ground, sheltered from further fire.

"Renton," Ken-Goh said amidst the noise, "I'm going to mention you in the report tomorrow, and get you nominated for the Red Star. That was the most courageous thing I've ever seen.

"Save it, Ken-Goh! We'll talk about that later! Somebody toss a fucking grenade!" Renton called to his men. Ken-Goh immediately pulled out a grenade and threw it at the machine gun, yelling, "Open up and say 'ah', you fascist bastards!" Boom! The grenade detonated and the MG42 was silenced.

"Good work, men!" Renton called. "Let's move up!" the company arose from their hiding places and advanced down the road, towards the ammo depot.

_flashback end_

After that mission, he was awarded the Red Star. He remembered it like it happened yesterday. He brought himself back to the here and now, however, and listened. Someone was definitely in a tremendous amount of pain. They listened closely and heard the voice calling their names.

"Renton! Eureka! Where are you?! Where are you!?" Eureka covered her mouth with both hands, struck with fear and uncertainty.

"Renton! Did you hear that?!"

"Sure did, Eureka. There's somethin' funny goin' on around here." Renton walked back to the house and got his rifle. If this was someone who had come looking for her, wanting to take her back, he was willing to kill one more time. She was happy here, and he was not going to have anyone take her back to that rat hole of a country. He came back and leveled the rifle, aiming into the distance.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Renton called, aiming down the barrel.

"Renton! Eureka! Where are you?!"

"Who are you? Come out with your hands up!"

There was a slight silence, the only noise being the rustling of the leaves in the trees, swaying in the summer wind. The voice cried again.

"All dead! All gone! All dead! All gone!" the voice was coming closer. Renton adjusted the sight of the rifle as he stepped forward a few feet. His heart was pounding as Eureka stood, frozen, paralyzed with fear.

Who's dead? Who's gone? Who is this person calling? Is it…? Renton lowered his rifle slightly.

"Who-who's there?" He crept closer to a bush where there was a slight depression in the earth. He saw a figure shrouded by the fading evening light climb up the slight rise that his house sat perched atop. He screamed, "ALL DEAD! ALL GONE!" He pulled himself up slightly and collapse into the depression from exhaustion. The sinking Sun cast light on the face. He couldn't believe who it was…Holland. How did he get all the way out here?! It was impossible! It couldn't be! How could Holland be all way out here, here, of all places?

"It's Holland!" Renton called to Eureka, who came running to her long-lost brother. She knelt beside him and looked over him. He was covered in cuts and scrapes across his face, evidence he had gotten into many scuffles. His grey hair was dirty and matted with twigs and leaves stuck in it. He wore a ripped and torn olive green trench coat, ripped open at one shoulder. On his shoulder there was a large wound, a scar, skin ripped and torn. He had taken a large beating coming here. His trousers were muddy and on his knee there was a faded bloody red patch. A large, large beating.

"Holland! Holland! It's me, Eureka!"

"I found you," he said weakly, looking up into the eyes of his little sister. "I finally found you."

"He's hurt badly, Eureka," said Renton, turning to her in concern. "Look at that wound on his shoulder."

Holland turned his caring eyes to Renton, Renton who led his sister out of Russia, to this, the land of the free. Renton, who he knew loved Eureka deeply. Renton, the one person he could call friend.

"Oh, Renton …" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I should have gone with you when I had the chance."

"What happened, Holland?" Renton asked in concern for his long-lost friend. Holland turned towards the dusk sky in despair.

"The resistance…destroyed."

"Destroyed? How?"

"Mikhail. The little rat. He found out. And told the NKVD the first chance he got."

"I ought to have known," said Eureka, darkly.

"The secret police came. They captured them, and took them outside, three by three; and killed them. All of them. And then they gassed our hideout to root out those they couldn't force to come out. The air turned bad." He shook his head in despair. "The escape routes were blocked with Red Army guards. Couldn't get out. Everything turned bad. I had to kill my way out; cut through the guards that blocked my way. And I blew up the hideout, so they couldn't find any documents or any plans we had. Everyone's gone. All of them dead. Not one left. Not one!" He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to regain what strength he had left.

"Bolsheviks have always hated us," Eureka said gloomily.

"No. They just destroyed the resistance because we were in their way."

"They'll never rest until they rule the earth," said Renton knowingly.

"I tried to find you…I wandered for days. The Red Shirts wouldn't let me go!"

Renton and Eureka looked at each other in confusion. Red Shirts? Who were the Red Shirts?

"They tore my shoulder. Tore it…" he pointed to his wounded shoulder and collapsed. "I tried to find you…" he closed his eyes and breathed slowly, seemingly trying to sleep.

"Red Shirts?" Renton asked Eureka in confusion. "What's he talking about?" He turned to Holland again. "Hey, Holland …"

"Let him alone," said Eureka. "Let him rest. He's had a bad time. We can ask him about it when he's rested." Renton nodded in agreement.

"Let's take him inside the house." The two lifted up Holland and carried him into the house and placed him on the couch. They didn't bother him, agreeing that they would ask what happened when he had fully recovered.

"He's been through hell," Renton said gravely. "Had it worse than I ever could."

"You still have your youth," Eureka said, trying to lift their spirits up.

"We're already dead. All of us. The war made us that way. The only reason we try to have fun is to live life up before we are called to go."

They left Holland alone and went into their room, to try and gather their scattered minds on what had just come to pass. Renton cried, perhaps for the first time in his life, as they rested their heads on each other's shoulder, and tried to comfort the other. So ended one of their days of summer, which was anything but joyful.

* * *

A/N: I will not update my story for a while, because I'll be going to Gettysburg to participate in the Civil War Institute. I will also be looking at colleges in the east. I will be back and writing byii July 5th. until then, enjoy what I have so far, and as always, read and review. If there's anything that might help, please don't hesitate to say so. I want make this a good story. Peace out! 

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever!


	4. Chapter 4: A Modest Proposal

A/N: Hey gang! I'm back from the Civil War Institute at Gettysburg and from an exhausting college hunt. I'll be working on finishing this from now on. If there are any questions you may have please don't hesitate to ask. Thank you all for being so patient for an update. Your patience has paid off! Here's the fourth chapter. Hope you love reading it as much as I did writing it.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**June 30****th****, 1943**

**"Dan's Pharmacy", downtown Belleforest**

Holland gradually recovered. Renton offered him a chance at American citizenship, which he took gladly. As he said, "I don't think I'll ever be going back. Not after this."

One day at the pharmacy, Renton and Dominic (his coworker) were talking at the counter while they still had a chance. They usually never got customers in June. The place got really busy in July and August, since that was the time most people were afflicted with summer allergies. There had been words going around town that Renton ought to propose to Eureka. Renton didn't like the idea much.

"Why not?" asked Dominic in surprise. Renton looked at him as he manned the register and smiled wistfully. So naive, he thought.

"It doesn't work like that, Dom. I've known for her for the better part of my life. You don't come to someone you haven't seen since you were twelve, present her a huge bouquet of flowers hand her a ring and say, 'Hey, remember me? We were kids together! Will you marry me?'" He laughed softly. "It just doesn't work like that."

Dominic laughed. You gotta be kiddin', he thought. Was he serious? "She loves you, you know. Everybody knows how..._devoted_ the two of you are." The two of them smiled.

"Am I that obvious, Dom?"

"You blow up every time someone brings it up! I'd say, yeah; you're pretty obvious." The two laughed. "You love her, don't you?"

"You said so yourself, it's pretty obvious."

"Right. So don't you wanna marry her?"

"I'd like to, if there weren't so many things stoppin' me. For one thing, we're both too young and--"

"What?" he said in surprise. "You're seventeen!"

"And she'll be fourteen in November!"

"So it's perfect!" He stopped...and thought a while. No, it wasn't. In order to be eligible to marry, one had to be at least 18. Renton was right. There had to be another way. He snapped his fingers, turned to Renton and smiled. He had it.

"Why don't you get a license?" Renton raised an eyebrow and scratched his head in confusion.

"A license?"

"I can help you apply. I know me some fellas at the town center, where you can get a permit. I can make an arrangement."

"What about her though? She's still underage."

"When she turns fifteen, she can get parent's consent."

"Her parents are back in Russia! The only 'parent' she has here is her brother."

"Good enough."

"How do you know all this by the way?"

"They teach you that stuff in civics, if you paid attention." Domininc laughed, pounding his hand on the counter.

"When's the last time you paid attention in history class?" Renton mouth curled into a wry smile. "When was the government under the United States Constitution officially established?"

"Uuuuhhhhhh..." Dominic pretended to be deep in thought. He never _was_ good at history the way Renton was. "1780..."

"Wrong!" Renton chimed, laughing. "After the Congress of the Confederation received word of New Hampshire's ratification on June 21, 1788, the constitutional government began operations on March 4th, 1789!"

"Oooo!" Dominic cried, sarcastically. "Got me again!" The two laughed, like they did every day when they joked around in the pharmacy. The manager Mr. Lepinsky, a Jew from Manhattan, barged in.

"All right, all right, youse guys!" he yelled in his New York Jewish accent. "Back to woik with ya's! What do I pay you for? Bein' comedians?! Do that on your own time!" With that he walked back to his office in a huff.

"He doesn't pay us much anyway," Dominic whispered, snickering.

"Yeah. We'd probably make more if we were _really_ comedians!" The two laughed again. Renton crossed his arms on the register and stared out the entrance door, lost in thought. Out there lay the town he grew up in, the people he had grown to love, the school he went to each day, the home where he returned every day, and perhaps, no, _definitely_, the most important person to him in this war-torn world...Eureka. Eureka. The mere mention of her name sparked thoughts of all the things she was to him...sounding board of his ideas. Confidante. Dearest childhood friend. Now new thoughts of her came to him. Lover. Fiancee. Wife. He shook his head and brought himself back to reality, out of his temporary stupor.

"One more problem, Dom."

"Okay, shoot."

"I don't have a ring."

"I thought you might bring that up. That's why I gotcha this." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a golden ring. Renton stared at it in total surprise. It was a tiny thing, with no diamonds or gems or any valuable stone. Just a little golden band with something etched on it. He looked closely to read the initials in beautifully scripted cursive: R & E.

"How the hell did you get that?" Renton asked in astonishment. Dominic smiled wryly.

"This was my mother's wedding ring, before she ran off with that man from L.A. Father gave it to her when he was about our age, maybe a little older. And he carved their initials, R & E. Roger and Emily. On the day she left, she took it off and gave it to me, and told me to tell Father when he got back, 'I don't need this anymore.' I've never seen her since."

Dominic turned to the ring, contemplating it, lost in his own thought. He remembered it so well: The dark hair swaying as she ranted away. The flowery dress trailing her as she walked out the door of their San Francisco home. Took the ring off. Took all the money, leaving them with nothing. Walked out the door. Slammed it behind her. Never returned. Dominic shook his head violently, sending his shaggy black hair swaying, and brought himself back to the here and now.

"Anyways, Renton, I know you two won't be like that...not ever. So I want you to take this." He placed the ring in Renton's palm and closed his fingers around it. "Take it. This should go from one pair of lovers to another. I know you two will be happy together."

"Thanks, Dom." Renton shoved the ring into the pocket of his trousers. He would present it to her when he got home and propose. He looked at his silver pocketwatch: 2:45. His shift ended at 7:30.

"Why don't you go home now, get it out of the way?" Renton looked at the smiling Dominic, head in his hand, grey flat cap cocked to one side, eyebrows raised.

"I can't leave _now_," he whined. "My shift ends at half past seven."

"So? I'll cover for you. We're not gonna get anyone today anyway. I'll tell Mr. Lepinsky you had some_...business_ to take care of."

"Thanks, Dom. I'll make sure I make you my best man for this."

"Think nothin' of it, Renton. Run home to her. Run, and don't stop till you get there." Renton beamed and dashed out the door, his trench coat flapping in the cold misty air. Dominic smiled.

"Go get her, chief. And when you got her, hold on to her as tight as you can."

»»»»»

Renton never stopped running until he reached his home. He burst through the door and greeted Holland.

"Do you know where Eureka is?" he asked hastily.

"In your room, waiting for you to come home. Why are you here early?"

"I got something important to tell her."

"Tell me first." Renton looked to Holland. Holland was about his age, Eureka's older brother, one of his closest friends, but would he consent? He stared at him intently. He knew what Renton was going to say. Renton gulped, nervous about what he had to admit, blushing madly.

"Holland, I'm in love with your sister." Holland smiled, laughing softly. He patted him on ths shoulder, in a calm brotherly way.

"What else is new? Do you remember how often Mikhail and I made cracks about you two?" Renton smiled as the tension and nervousness started to melt away. "Renton, you are the best friend she and I have ever had. You're honest and loyal and caring. I know you will make a fine husband for Eureka."

"You know, don't you?"

"Renton Thurston, I could not have asked for a better man. I could tell that she loved you, long before you came back. There's something about you, Renton, that made her love you. I don't know what that was, but I know that ever since the day you left she loved you with all her heart. She never had the courage to say it back home, however. She only said it when you took her here to live. What you've done for her made her say it. You bringing her here was the kindest and bravest thing anyone could've done. You're a real hero, Renton. She deserves you more than anyone, just as you deserve her." He gave him a brotherly Russian kiss, a seal of consent for Renton. "I give you my consent and my blessing. I know you two will be very happy together, Renton. Now go to her." Renton nodded and smiled. He knew he could count on him. He turned and walked to his room where Eureka was waiting.

He knocked on the door. "Eureka, are you in there?" No answer. "Eureka...I want to talk with you. I have something very important to say."

The door creaked open slightly. through the little crack he could see her wondrous grey eyes, the eyes that showed loving and caring.

"R-r-r-r-Renton?"

Renton bit his tongue, and moaned softly. He gulped, as his longing for her, his lust, his love for her intensified with each passing moment.

"I have something important to ask you. May I come in?"

The door creaked open, and Renton walked in. Eureka was seated on his cot, staring intently at him.

"Eureka, you know I love you, right?"

"And I love you, Renton." Renton smiled slightly. "What did you want to ask me?"

"I want to live out the rest of my days with you, Eureka. There's no one in this world I'd rather spend my life with. I don't to be with anyone but you. So what I want to ask you is..." He pulled out the ring Dominic gave him and got down on his knees in front of her. Her eyes widened, as she soon realized what he was going to ask her.

"Eureka, will you marry me?"

Eureka covered her mouth with her hands and gasped as her eyes started to well up. Is he, she thought in astonishment, _proposing_ to me? Did he really ask me to marry him? She started to cry in joy and smiled. There was no one she'd rather be married to. She loved him more than anything! She would marry him in a heartbeat! She jumped off the bed and fell on top of him, wrapping her loving arms around him and kissing him innocently on the lips. Both minds were indulged with pure happiness and love, as now the answer was given. When he turned eighteen, the two of them would be wed.

"Oh, Renton! Yes! I will marry you."

Renton wrapped his arms around her waist and returned the kiss lovingly. "Eureka, you've made the happiest man on earth. Thank you."

"I love you, Renton."

"And I love you, Eureka, my darling."

They kissed passionately, as now the die was cast and they would share every moment of their lives together from now on. Holland looked into the room, since Eureka left the door ajar, and cried happily. He knew they would be happy together. He turned to the sky and said quietly, so as not to disturb them, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for making my sister happy. Lord bless them and may their lives be filled with love. Amen."

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. I just wanted to thank you all again for being so patient. I really appreciate it. Since you were all good enough to wait I'll give you a little preview of what's to come next...

_Three little kids from Renton's neighborhood named Maurice, Maeter, and Linck won't stop playing pranks on him, and Renton's patience is wearing thin..._

That's all I can tell you. Don't wanna give the whole thing away.

Cheers!

Renton and Eureka Forever.


	5. Chapter 5: The Prank War

A/N: I hate to upset all you RXE/ DominicXAnemone / HollandTalho fans out there, but don't expect too many romantic moments in this chapter. This chapter is pretty much a sort of comic relief cuz it's essentially the escapades of Renton and the boys against those three little brats we all know and love. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**10:30 am, July 9th, 1943**

Three little children gathered outside Renton home on the hill. One was a little black haired boy, seven, the eldest of the three named Maurice. He was the leader of this little expedition. Another was a blond haired girl, six, named Maeter. She was trailing a long water hose, and another little boy, a five-year-old negro named Linck, who manned the pump. They were getting ready to play another prank on Renton, like they did often during the summer.

Why?

They never really liked Renton. Ever since he returned from Stalingrad, amidst all the cheering and fanfare he received, they were all resentful of the acclaim and honoring he got. "He doesn't deserve it," Maurice often told the others. "We all have fathers and brothers fighting and he gets called a hero for going to Stalingrad? HA! Why should he get credit for something everyone else is doin'?" They all saw him as sort of a prima donna, a glory hog, and an annoying bookworm. They dedicated each summer to playing practical jokes and pranks on him. "It's good, clean, all-American fun," Maurice told them.

"You got the water hose?" Maurice called to Maeter.

"I sure do," Maeter replied as she reached the front door.

"Linck, fire up the pump." Linck turned the faucet wide open until water came pouring out of the hose.

"Remember Maeter, when he opens the door, blast 'im with the hose!"

Maurice walked to the door and knocked. He put his ear to the door so hecould hear what was going on inside.

"I wonder who that could be?" he heard Renton say.

"Shall I go see who it is?" a female voice with a slight Slavic accent inquired.

"No. You stay there. I'll take care of it." Maurice knocked on the door again. "Alright, alright, alright! Give me time!"

Footsteps approached the door. He ran and Maeter assumed her position with the hose, with Maurice helping her from behind. The door creaked open and there stood Renton, decked in a white long-sleeved dress shirt, grey knickerbockers and argyle socks.

"Yes?" Renton asked.

Splash! Renton was blasted with the hose and drenched from head to toe. Maurice and Maeter laughed as Linck shut off the water and ran home. Renton, infuriated by their prank, dived for Maurice and Maeter, hoping to catch them, but they dropped the hose and ran home, trying to catch up to Linck. Renton got up and yelled at them, shaking his fist at the three little figures, rapidly disappearing from view.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BRATS! COME BACK AND FIGHT ME LIKE MEN!" Alas, they could not hear him, as they had ran out of earshot of him.

"I'll get those little kids if it's the last thing I do!" Renton walked back into the house and into the washroom to dry off.

"Who was it?" Eureka asked, slightly surprised and slightly amused to see Renton soaked.

"It was those little kids from down the street! Another one of those practical jokes of theirs! I swear to God, Eureka, I'm gonna get those little brats if it's takes me a hundred years!"

"Watch your blood pressure, Renton!" Holland called.

"Well, how would _you_ like it if you opened the door and got soaked?"

"I wouldn't, but I wouldn't go after those little kids. Kids'll be kids, Renton. Always."

"We all have to grow up _some_ time."

"I think you're trying to grow up too fast, Renton. You're only seventeen, and you still have the rest of your youth ahead of you. Try to enjoy it whlile you still can and don't waste your time fighting those little kids."

"Well, you may do as you wish, but I'm not gonna put up with it much longer. They do this EVERY...SINGLE...SUMMER! And I dunno about you, but one gets a little tired of it after a while. I know I have." Renton suddenly beamed and snapped his fingers, as if he had gotten a bright idea. Holland and Eureka rolled their eyes and looked at each other. They knew that look of his from years past, whenever he had a "bright idea", and often called others to action. Renton quickly dried himself and ran out the door without a word.

"There he goes," Eureka said knowingly with a smile, "on another one of his damn crusades."

"You have to admit," Holland said, crossing his arms, "it's pretty admirable of him to stick to a plan. He's not one to give up without a fight."

"I know. That's what I love about him."

»»»»»

**Downtown Belleforest, California**

**12:30 pm, two hours later**

Rrrrring! Rrrrring! The doorbell rang at Dominic and Anemone's apartment.

"Now who do you suppose that could be?" Anemone asked, flipping her bright red hair.

"Prob'ly Renton with another one of his 'bright ideas'." Dominic looked through the peephole of the door to see Renton, his hair matted and unkempt, face solid with determination, a general ready to order his troops to advance. Dominic turned to Anemone, lounging lazily on the sofa. "It's him alright."

"I wonder what 'bright idea' he's concocted this time," Anemone said, giggling.

"We'll soon see." He opened the door and greeted Renton. "Hey, chief. What's the plan this time?"

"You know those three kids from down my street? Maurice, Maeter and Linck?"

"You mean the ones that always play pranks on you?"

"Yeah, them. I got a plan to put an end to their games, once and for all. You in?" Dominic smiled and shrugged.

"Sure. Ain't got nothin' else to do."

"Heeeeyyyyy!" Anemone cried, pretending to look offended.

"Anemone!" Renton called. "Are you in or out?"

"I can't let my Dominic go alone. I'm in."

"Good. I need all the help I can get."

"Are the others in?"

"Yep. Called 'em up earlier on the way over here. Just waiting on you two now."

"You sure know how to think ahead, Renton," Dominic said, smiling.

"All part of being a commander! Now get yourselves down in front of the building. On the double!" Dominic smiled wider, clicked his heels and saluted Renton in an officerly manner.

"Yessir, chief!" With that, Dominic and Anemone followed Renton out the door and down to the front of the apartment complex. The boys were all lined up in a row, like little toy soldiers; Moondoggie, Donald, Matthieu. When all had been gathered together, they marched off into an abandoned shack, crafted by Renton himself as their headquarters, to plan their moves. Maurice, Maeter and Linck were not far off. they were lying in an open field staring at the sky and the clouds, relaxing. While they lay in the open in the mid-afternoon sun, Renton formulated a plan.

"Okay, fellas. this is how it's gotta be. The brats are lying out here in the open." He pointed to an open patch of land on a handcrafted map of the neighborhood. "They have no idea where we are, and they have no idea that we're gonna hit 'em. There are some bushes surrounding the field; they can conceal our movement and give us the element of surprise in this fight. Now, I got you guys some water balloons to pummel 'em with..." He handed each of them a grey tote bag filled with multicolored water balloons.

"We''ll take up a encircling position in the bushes surrounding the field, and take them by surprise. Questions?"

"When do we pummel 'em?" asked Moondoggie eagerly.

"When I give the order. Any other questions?" No one spoke up. "Very well then. Let's move."

They quickly and quietly moved into the bushes surrounding the open field. The three children lay peacefully in the open field, relaxing and staring at the clouds in the sky. Maurice stirred. He felt something, a presence, like he was being watched. He looked around. There was no one except his next door neighbor and friend and his sister. He looked towards the bushes surrounding the open field. They rusteld and shifted. It was nothing, he thought. Probably some squirrels or rabbits. If only he knew.

Renton and the others crouched in the bushes, waiting for their orders. Dominic crawled to Renton.

"Is everyone ready?" Renton asked.

"Yep. Ready waiting for your orders."

"Good. Get back to your post now and wait for the command. When I give the word everyone goes at once. Got it?"

"Yessir, sir!" With that, Dominic crawled back to his position next to Anemone and Matthieu.

"Time for a little payback!" Renton whispered to himself.

"He's one wild kid," Matthieu said.

"He may be wild, but he's a good soldier," Dominic replied.

"You said it, Dominic," Anemone agreed.

Renton looked to his left, where Moondoggie stood, water balloon in hand, waiting for the order. He turned to Renton and smiled.

"Waitin' for orders, sir!" Moondoggie whispered.

"You'll get 'em soon enough." Renton peered through the bushes and spied Maurice, Maeter, and Linck looking around. Damn, he thought. They must've heard us. Well, they still don't know it's us. We still have the element of surprise. He looked back to the others, waiting anxiously for the command. It was now or never.

"NOW!"

With that one word, all rose from their hiding places and, amidst cheers and roaring of battlecries, started pummeling Maurice, Maeter, and Linck with water balloons, each one hitting their mark. They were taken completely by surprise and had no way of fighting back the ambush. The three children were soon completely drenched and running for their secondary "base of operations" as Renton called it, a little treehouse they crafted themselves, with Renton and company trailing them, that is, until they ran out of water balloons. They retreated to Renton's hideout, where there were more weapons of the pranklike nature: water balloons, wooden rifles that fired rubber bands, and even ladders for storming any treehouses "the little brats" might be hiding in.

"This isn't just retaliation," Dominic joked with Anemone, as they eyed Renton's aresnal. "This is all-out war!"

"I intend to fight 'em out until they have no spirit left to continue their little games. This oughtta teach them a lesson. If this doesn't, I don't know what will," Renton replied.

"You said it," Donald concurred. "Those kids have played tricks on us for the last time. Let's give them a taste of their own medicine."

"Yeah! It's payback time!" Matthieu cried out, laughing. All cheered and roared, in celebration of their little victory.

"The war isn't over yet, fellas," Renton said, calming them. "We've routed them to their secondary BOP, the treehouse." He rolled out a handdrawn map of the treehouse.

"Here's the situation," Renton began. "We've cornered them in their hideout, the treehouse. Now if the history teaches us anything, it teaches us the best way of taking a fortified position: by seige." He turned to Dominic. "Dom, we're going to need some reinforcements if we want this siege to be quick. I want you and Anemone to go into town or any place and try to get some help. We need to take this place with overwhelming force. Understand?"

Dominic and Anemone saluted jokingly, smiling, being thoroughly entertained in this little game they were playing. "Yessir!" the two shouted. Renton returned the salute and the young couple walked out into the downtown area to get some more help. Renton turned to Moondoggie.

"Moondoggie, you still got that catapult from the science fair?"

"Yeah, I sure do."

"Go home and get it. We can use it as a siege weapon." Moondoggie saluted and walked home to get the catapult that won him first prize in the science fair. Renton at last turned to Matthieu, beaming, showing his white teeth.

"Matthieu, I need you to go into your neighborhood and get some help, and get whatever we can use as a prank weapon."

"Renton, I gotta hand it to you. You've planned this out thoroughly. You could be a great general." Renton smiled.

"Maybe someday. Go now, Matthieu. Report back to me when you've complpeted your mission." Matthieu laughed, saluted, and walked out the door of the shack. Renton pulled up a rocking chair, sat down and closed his eyes, dreaming of not of the victory he had today, not dreams of victory against the little brats, but of his fiancée, Eureka, and their future married life together. Even in times of war, this summer soldier and patriot thought only of home and his love, Eureka.

»»»»»

**3:30 pm, three hours later**

"Renton? Renton?"

Renton stirred and slowly opened his eyes. It was Dominic, his right-hand man, his lieutenant, his second-in-command.

"How'd it go? How many did you two get?"

"Five. Brings our overall strength up to eleven." Renton smiled. Dominic had done well.

"Good. Good. What I want you to do, Dom, is lead a hand-picked force of men--"

"Ahem!" Anemone coughed. She wasn't about to be left out.

"--and _women_ to scout the enemy position. I want any information you can give me: relative strength, what weapons they got, and any weak points in their position. Understand?" Dominic smiled and saluted.

"Yessir!"

"Very well, then. Off you go." Dominic and Anemone promptly left and Matthieu walked in followed by three burly looking boys.

"These are all I managed to get. Also got some rubber band-firing toy rifles."

"That'll do. Brings up our strength to fourteen. Donald will be comin' up more men. Now we just need Moondoggie to come up with the catapult."

Just then, Moondoggie entered, saying, "Catapult's been brought up." Renton walked outside to see the miniature catapult that impressed everyone at the science fair, about half the size of a full-scale catapult, cratfed out of wood and paper mache.

"Is it powerful enough to fire a water balloon?" Renton asked.

"Renton, it'll fire whatever you ask it to," Matthieu said, laughing. Renton turned to Moondoggie and pointed hm in the direction of a hill, not far from the brats' treehouse. He ordered him to set up a firing position on the hill and promised that ammunition would be brought up.

Dominic came back from his scouting mission and reported that "the brats" were growing in strength; four more children had been brought up, armed with rubber band-firing rifles, and it looked that more reinforcements, about three, were rapidly coming up. there was one weak point in their defensive line: The enemy had not counted on an attack from the rear.

"Renton I think the best plan is to take my force around the enemy's line and take the treehouse from the rear by storm."

"Approved. I don't, however, want your force to stop for firing water balloons during their assault. The attack needs to be swift. No one fires until they are inside the treehouse. Understand?"

"Yessir, chief."

"Move your force around the line and take up positions. when Moondoggie fires the first water balloon, that'll be the signal to begin your assault." Dominic promtly saluted and walked to join his force. Donald soon came up with his force: four other boys toting rubber band-firing rifles. Overall strength was now at 18. As far as he knew, the brats' force numbered nine or ten, so he outnumbered them at least 2-to-1. Good, he thought. Overwhelming superiority is key. That's half the battle won. All forces were in position. It was now or never.

Renton went to the hill where the catapult was, dragging a bag of water balloons. He helped Moondoggie load a water balloon into the catapult and promptly fired. He followed the balloon as it whizzed through the air and hit the wall of the treehouse, breaking open and splashing water on the walls and on the children below. The signal was given, and all forces began their assault. Renton looked through his binoculars to see the battle up close.

Matthieu was making good progress, as he had only suffered one casualty, hit with a rubber band and sent back to the rear to be treated by Anemone, who was acting as a nurse. Matthieu's force inflicted heavy casualties on the brats' forces, as one after the other, they were hit with water balloons or rubber bands that knocked them down and accidentally set off their rifles, firing rubber bands into the air. In about ten minutes, the brats' forces on Matthieu's front broke and routed, and Matthieu began advancing on the treehouse.

Renton darted his vision to Donald's men, who were advancing steadliy. They were encountering heavy resistance, however, as he saw half his force go down after being pummeled with water balloons by the brats firing from the treehouse and from the force in their front. When the water came in contact with the wooden rifles they swelled up and fouled, but they did manage to shoot some rubber bands at the brats at the treehouse, who quickly ducked into hiding. But then a water balloon, launched by the catapult, went through the window and splashed the brats. The force in Donald's front refused to yield, and Donald's advance was stopped cold.

Renton's focus then shifted to Dominic's assault, coming from the rear. He had formed his men in a compact assualt column, and rapidly advanced, despite the bombardment of water balloons being pummeled at them by Maurice Maeter and Linck, firing from the treehouse. Thankfully, they reached the base of the treehouse and soon brought up a ladder, set it against the house with the top of the ladder leading to a window and Dominic led his force in a climb up the ladder and into the treehouse. Dominic, you magnificent son of a gun, Renton thought. You would have performed well at Stalingrad, had you been with me. You're the best I've got here in this fight. I know you won't fail me. However, he saw three figures climibing down a rope from the treehouse: Maurice, Maeter and Linck. They reached the bottom and were running for the their last hideout: a little run-down shack on a hill. Matthieu's force tried to pursue them, firing their rifles at the retreating figures, but they were too fast; Maurice, Maeter, and Linck soon ran out of sight and towards the shack on the hill. Damn, he cursed. those little brats have gotten away again! Why do they always run away? Cowards! I'll get them yet!

Dominic waved a little flag from the treehouse signaling that it had been taken; the battle was over and Renton had won again. All the "troops" threw their hats in the air and cheered, as what were left of the brats' forces were brought back as "prisoners". Renton came face to face with one prisoner, a blond-haired boy, eleven, named Timmy Garnett.

"Are you Renton Thurston? The boy who fought in Stalingrad?" he asked in a high childish voice.

"Yes, I am." The boy beamed and jumped up and down in excitement, overcome that he was in the presence of his idol.

"Mr. Thurston, you're my hero!" Renton smiled and kneeled, so he could see the boy at his level.

"That so? Why are you fighting against me, then?"

"I didn't know, Mr. Thurston. Nobody told me. They just said we were playing a game. If I knew, I wouldn't have fought! Honest!" Renton smiled and patted the boy on the shoulder. He liked this boy. At least some kids were good, he thought. Unlike those brats.

"Okay, I believe you, son. Say, Timmy, you wanna help us win this game?"

"Sure, Mr. Thurston! I'd love to help, especially when _you're_ leading us!" Renton laughed and patted him on the shoulder again.

"You'll be our scout, then. Welcome aboard, Timmy." The little boy beamed and hugged Renton, laughing the way children do when they are content and satisfied. That melted Renton's heart. He didn't like hearing people his age or older calling him "their hero" but when children called him that, it sometimes rought him to tears. He was a hero to these kids, a title he never liked before, but was getting used to more and more. If only Eureka could hear him, he thought. If we have children, I want them to be just like Timmy.

»»»»»

**4:30 pm**

The brats were cornered. There was no place for them to go. This was their last holdout. If they quit and went home, not only would they have to live with the fact that Renton, the boy they hated, had triumphed, but they also had to admit to their mother what they had been doing all this time: pranking the town's hero, and they were sure to be punished. they had to hold out, or they would be grounded.

Renton eyed the shack through his binoculars, with the troops singing "Battle Hymn of the Republic" in the background. He had them in his grasp. There was no chance of escape for them. They would have to surrender and admit defeat. Renton had cut off every possible line of retreat by surrounding the house with all the forces he had. The catapult was set up on an adjacent hill and was loaded with a water balloon. This time, he was sure it was to be the last battle, one that would put a stop to the brats' little games for good. Timmy came up and asked if there was any way he could help. Renton handed him a rubber band-firing rifle.

"I want you to shoot at the windows so we can throw water balloons into there. Understand?"

"Yes I do, Mr. Thurston. I'll shoot at the windows."

Timmy walked cautiously up to the abandoned house until he was within effective range and fired. One after the other, rubber bands hit the windows and shattered them, casting pieces of glass in all directions. All the windows were soon open and all the troops waited for the order to fire. Renton turned to Moondoggie, who manned the catapult and gave him the go-ahead. Moondoggie fired the catapult and sent a balloon flying through the air, throught the open window and into the house, splashing water on Maurice, Maeter, and Linck. Renton gave the order.

"NOW!"

All the troops opened up and poured water balloons into the house, each one hitting their mark and soaking the brats. Dominic and his force advanced on the house, with Renton following close behind, and started battering the worn-out door. The door gave way and Renton walked calmly in, eyeing the three brats, drenched from head to toe.

"So, do you give up?" He asked the three flatly, intent on getting this over with and going home to his fiancée. Immediately Linck threw up his hands.

"I give up! I give up!" Linck gurgled. Renton turned to him, with a cold calm face. He didn't hate them. He just didn't appreciate their jokes and pranks and thought, as everyone else did, that enough was enough.

"You're free to go, then. Just as long as you don't do this again."

"Yessir, Renton, sir." Linck walked out the door, hands still in the air, and tiredly walked home. He had had enough anyway. Renton then turned back to Maurice and Maeter, standing up, drenched but defiant. Timmy walked in and stood at Renton's side.

"What about you two? Give up?"

"NO!" the two of them said together.

"Suit yourself." Renton opened the back door and called, "ALL UNITS OPEN FIRE!" Balloons flew through the broken windows and pummeled the two siblings, soaking them to the skin.

"OKAY! OKAY! YOU WIN! TRUCE! TRUCE!" Maurice called. Renton smiled wryly, and called out the door, "CEASE FIRE!" The shelling of water balloons stopped, leaving the siblings soaked.

"You two are free to go home, as long as you promise not to do this again." The two nodded and were heading for the door when Renton said, "One question though." The two stopped and turned to the boy they despised.

"What've you kids got against me, anyway? I've never done anything to you."

"You're a phony," Maurice said indignantly. "You take all the glory for something our fathers and brothers and loved are doing. You go to Stalingrad, fight and come back to be called a hero. Tch. You're no hero. You're a glory hog. A phony!"

Timmy scowled at them and yelled, almost to a screech, "You stop it! You got no right to talk to him like that! He risked his life out there in Stalingrad! If that isn't heroism, I dunno what is!" Renton calmed him and put his hand on his shoulder. He turned to Maurice and spoke to him severely.

"Listen to me. I didn't go for the same reason others did. I didn't go because I wanted to serve my country. I didn't go because I wanted to see some action or some fightin'. I went for somethin' more important. I went to help a friend. I went because I was afraid of what might happen to them if I didn't go, and so I went. And it turned out that one of my friends needed my help. And I helped her by bringing her back. Because she asked me to. Because she wanted to leave. Because she wanted to live here. That little friend is now my fiancée. I went there to help my friends because I didn't want to leave them for dead. That was it. Can you honestly say with your heart that you would not have done the exact same thing in my position?"

"Well...no, I can't."

"I thought not."

"I know I would have gone!" Timmy piped up. Renton smiled and patted him on the head. He turned back to the two siblings, who now were hanging their heads in shame. Renton thought he had put them through enough. He smiled, knowing that he got his message through to them. He knew they weren't bad kids after all. Just...confused.

"Now, do you two promise you won't play another prank on me again?" The two nodded, frowns on their faces, ashamed for what they had done. Renton smiled, seeing how all people were still good at heart.

"If that's the case," Renton continued, "You can go home." The two nodded and walked out the door for home. They had learned their lesson. Now all could go home.

Renton's little army of irascibles wanted to stay with him for the walk home, and Renton, being the boy he was, couldn't say no to them. They followed him home, singing songs and carrying a the flag Dominic raised over the treehouse: The Stars and Stripes, the Old Glory, the Red, White, and Blue. A drummer boy and Timmy, playing a fife, struck up a tune when they reached his house, just as Eureka opened the door to welcome the weary soldier home. The tune was one of Renton's favorites: _Columbia, Gem of the Ocean. _All of Renton's little motley crew, victorious in their war with the brats, sang the song for the young couple:

_O Columbia! The gem of the ocean,  
The home of the brave and the free,  
The shrine of each patriot's devotion,  
A world offers homage to thee. _

_Thy mandates make heroes assemble  
When Liberty's form stands in view;  
Thy banners make tyranny tremble  
When borne by the red, white and blue.  
_

_Chorus: When borne by the red, white and blue,  
When borne by the red, white and blue,  
Thy banners make tyranny tremble  
When borne by the red, white and blue. _

_When war winged its wide desolation  
And threatened the land to deform,  
The ark then of freedom's foundation,  
Columbia, rode safe thro' the storm: _

_With the garlands of vict'ry around her,  
When so proudly she bore her brave crew,  
With her flag proudly floating before her,  
The boast of the red, white and blue.  
_

_Chorus: The boast of the red, white and blue,  
The boast of the red, white and blue,  
With her flag proudly floating before her,  
The boast of the red, white and blue. _

_The star-spangled banner bring hither,  
O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave;  
May the wreaths they have won never wither,  
Nor its stars cease to shine on the brace: _

_May the service, united, ne'er sever,  
But hold to their colors so true;_ (and here they changed the lyrics just for them)  
_Eureka and Renton forever,  
Three cheers for the red, white and blue.  
_

_Chorus: Three cheers for the red, white and blue,  
Three cheers for the red, white and blue,  
Eureka and Renton forever,  
Three cheers for the red, white and blue. _

When they had finished their serenade, they all threw their caps in the air, cheering their leader as Renton waved them goodbye. They left, heading all to their respective homes, exhausted but satisfied from today's adventures.

Eureka turned to her love and said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "I take it you taught them a lesson."

"Yep. Gave them a taste of their own medicine. They won't be bothering us anymore. Now we can enjoy the rest of the summer in peace."

"Renton, just promise me one thing."

"Anything. Just ask for it."

"Don't go on another damn crusade like that!" Eureka said, laughing.

"I can promise you that I will try. Is that enough?"

Eureka kissed him and whispered in his ear, "Of course it is."

So ended another day of summer, where Renton had successfully ended one of his "damn crusades" and all was well again.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked reading it as much as I did writing it. It wa really hard plugging that out! But the next chapters are where the story really picks up the pace... 

How? Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourself. Tee hee.


	6. Chapter 6: The Day of Days

A/N: Here's where the _real_ story picks up. This is such an important event, not just in the story but also in our history, that I've given the chapter a title, so...Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Six: The Day of Days**

**12:15 am, June 6th, 1944**

**Downtown Belleforest, California**

Not much had happened in the last year, with the exception of birthdays abound, Christmas and Thanksgiving. All were now a year older; Dom, Renton and Holland had turned eighteen, Eureka was now fourteen, and Anemone was sixteen. All had gotten different memorable gifts and mementos for their coming of age. Some things still hadn't changed, though: Renton and Eureka were still engaged. They agreed to set it aside until Eureka was fifteen, by which time Renton would have gotten a marriage license.

Dominic and Anemone were up late in their apartment that fateful night, a day which would live on in history. They couldn't sleep, not that they would want to, anyway. They were planning on having some fun that night. Dominic had broken out two cokes for the two of them and toasted to their future marriage, which would be in two years' time. Dominic had proposed to her late in the school year, and of course, she jumped at the opportunity. In their youth, when they were little in elementary school, they had joked about being married and having children, and now here they were, in the prime of their lives, engaged and about to take part in something they scoffed at when they were "young 'uns."

The two young lovers had finished necking, had turned on the radio and were listening to Tommy Dorsey and his swing band. They were thoroughly enjoying themselves when their radio program was interrrupted.

_"We interrupt this program to bring you an important announcement..."_

"Not another one!" Anemone groaned. Dominic looked to her and smiled.

"It might be something important. You never know."

"Nothing's more important to me than you, Dominic." The two laughed. The radio announcer, Edward R. Murrow, blared the "important announcement."

_"We are getting numerous reports from the Allied High Command and from Eisenhower himself that there have been Allied landings on the Normandy beaches in France..."_

The two stared at the radio, shocked and surprised. This was the decisive act that would bring the war one step closer to its end, the decisive blow all had been waiting for. It was unexpected, and yet long-awaited. Dominic himself had heard from others at the Presidio that there was talk of a cross-channel invasion as early as March or May. All had waited patiently for a day like this to come. Their hopes had been realized.

_"Now these are only preliminary reports and of course we'll keep you informed if anything further develops. From what we're getting now, though, it seems that the landings began at around 6:30 this morning, Paris Time. The invasion is being led by a combined American, Canadian and British force, along contingents of the Free French, Free Dutch, Free Belgian and Free Norwegian forces. We are just getting this information as it is coming in from the Allied High Command in England and transferring it to you live. As I said, we will keep you informed of any further developments..."_

Dominic and Anemone looked to each other and cheered, grabbing each other in pure surprise and celebration. This was it. The event all had been waiting for. This was the beginning of the end of this long and terrible war.

"This is truly a miracle!" Dominic said, almost in tears. "This is history in the making! I gotta call Renton!"

"He's not gonna be up, y'know," said Anemone, smiling.

"To hell with curfews! This is world history, taking shape right in front of us!"

Dominic ran for the phone and turned the crank, connecting to the operator.

"Hello, operator? Get me the Thurston residence, and fast!" Immediately the sound of "booop...booop" signifying the ringing on the other end of the line rang in his ear. It continued for a long while. Aneone smiled wryly.

"Told you he wouldn't be up."

Dominic ingored her and instead yelled into the reciever, "C'MON RENTON! PICK UP, YOU STRICT PURITAN!" He heard a click as Renton picked up the phone lazily and placed it to his ear. "Finally," he sighed.

"Hello?" Renton said in a sleepy low voice.

"Renton, are you awake?" Dominic asked hastily.

"Who is this?"

"It's Dominic."

"Dominic, why are you calling me at...12:20 in the morning?" he asked, evidently agitated.

"It's really important, chief! Turn on your radio!"

"What for?"

"Just do it! Trust me; it's really important that you hear this! Turn on your radio!"

"Dominic, if this is one of your jokes, I'm gonna pound the living daylights outta you."

"It's no joke, Renton. This is serious!"

"All right then. I'll turn it on."

"I'm comin' over, Renton. And I'm bringin' Anemone with me."

"Fine. See you in ten minutes."

He hung up and quickly got his grey flat cap and trench coat, as it was quite chilly that night. He turned to Anemone, standing there without any warm clothes.

"Anemone, get your coat. We're goin' over to Renton's."

"Now? But there's a curfew!"

"Bother the curfew! This is world history!" Dominic grabbed Anemone's coat, quickly slipped it on her, and rushed out the door towards Renton's home.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Anemone picked up Gulliver, who had just woken up. The young couple then ran out the front door of the apartment complex and ran through the streets, shouting the good news that the invasion had begun, sometimes getting yelled at by neighbors to "GO BACK TO SLEEP, YOU CRAZY KIDS!" Within ten minutes they reached his home, short of breath. Dominic promptly knocked on his door, and was greeted by Renton, surprisingly fully dressed in his day clothes. For what? Neither Dominic or Anemone could tell.

"You were right, Dom. This is no joke. This is big!"

"Renton, hurry!" called Eureka from inside. "General Eisenhower is about to speak." Dominic Renton and Anemone hurried inside and gathered around the radio. Eureka and Holland were also dressed in day clothes. What was the point of that? Dominic thought to himself. Is it a new craze? To dress up at night? His train of thought was derailed as the radio blared an announcement.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now getting a report that General Eisenhower is about to deliver a message to the people of Western Europe. This is a historic moment. We now are now pleased to let you hear...General Dwight David Eisenhower:_

(A/N: This is taken verbatim from the actual D-Day broadcast Eisenhower made to the people of Western Europe)

_"People of Western Europe: A landing was made this morning on the coast of France by troops of the Allied Expeditionary Force. This landing is part of the concerted United Nations' plan for the liberation of Europe, made in conjunction with our great Russian allies._

_I have this message for all of you. Although the initial assault may not have been made in your own country, the hour of your liberation is approaching. _

_All patriots, men and women, young and old, have a part to play in the achievement of final victory. To members of resistance movements, I say, "Follow the instructions you have received." To patriots who are not members of organized resistance groups, I say, "Continue your passive resistance, but do not needlessly endanger your lives until I give you the signal to rise and strike the enemy. The day will come when I shall need your united strength." Until that day, I call on you for the hard task of discipline and restraint._

_Citizens of France! I am proud to have again under my command the gallant Forces of France. Fighting beside their Allies, they will play a worthy part in the liberation of their Homeland._

_Because the initial landing has been made on the soil of your country, I repeat to you with even greater emphasis my message to the peoples of other occupied countries in Western Europe. Follow the instructions of your leaders. A premature uprising of all Frenchmen may prevent you from being of maximum help to your country in the critical hour. Be patient. Prepare!_

_As Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force, there is imposed on me the duty and responsibility of taking all measures necessary to the prosecution of the war. Prompt and willing obedience to the orders that I shall issue is essential._

_Effective civil administration of France must be provided by Frenchmen. All persons must continue in their present duties unless otherwise instructed. Those who have made common cause with the enemy and so betrayed their country will be removed. As France is liberated from her oppressors, you yourselves will choose your representatives, and the government under which you wish to live._

_In the course of this campaign for the final defeat of the enemy you may sustain further loss and damage. Tragic though they may be, they are part of the price of victory. I assure you that I shall do all in my power to mitigate your hardships. I know that I can count on your steadfastness now, no less than in the past. The heroic deeds of Frenchmen who have continued the struggle against the Nazis and their Vichy satellites, in France and throughout the French Empire, have been an example and an inspiration to all of us._

_This landing is but the opening phase of the campaign in Western Europe. Great battles lie ahead. I call upon all who love freedom to stand with us. Keep your faith staunch - our arms are resolute - together we shall achieve victory."_

Silence. The great man, the one who commanded this audacious operation, had spoke his piece. All looked about each other in shock and awe. This was no dream. This was real. The decisive blow all had been waiting for had arrived. Renton, Holland and Eureka ran for suitcases they had apparently packed and were headed for the door.

"Wait a cotton-pickin' minute!" Dominic called. "Where the heck are you guys goin'?"

"To Normandy," the three said together.

"Normandy?! But that's suicide! You'll be killed for sure!" Anemone cried. Renton stared at them coldly.

"There's a friend in France I must help, and I'm not leaving him for dead. Jacques's homeland is now a battlefield, and I know he needs my help. I won't turn my back on him. I have a commitment to him as a friend; we agreed to stick together through the good times and the bad times. I can't turn my back on him now...I know he needs my help; that's why I must go. I'm going for that reason and that reason only; the same reason I went to Stalingrad."

"You're one devoted friend Renton. I gotta hand it to you. If you're going to Normandy, I'm goin' with you," Dominic said with a strong determined look on his face.

"If you're going, Dominic, I'm gong too. I won't let you go alone!" Anemone said, grabbing Dominic's hand. Renton sighed and slapped his hand on his forehead.

"Just what I need: more camp followers! Dom, I don't want you involved in this business. It's better you stay home." Dominic scowled.

"I'm goin' with you, whether you like it or not! I'll make sure you come home safe. Let's not argue about this. I go where you go, eat what you eat, fight where you fight. We've been friends since 5th grade and friends look out for each other. That's what I'm doin' by doin' this." Renton smiled and gave in.

"Then I'm really lucky to have such a good friend. Okay, you two can come. Go home and get what you need. I'll meet you all at Union Station. I need to take care of some things before we go."

All nodded and left, leaving Renton alone. He got out a sheet of paper and wrote a message for anyone who might want to come to and spend time at his house while he was away. He wrote:

_"I have left to help Jacques Debusset in Normandy, France. I will return when the campaign is over. Dom and Anemone have left with me, along with Eureka and Holland. Please keep well and pray for us. Give my love to all and if I should not return, let all know that I behaved decently and died helping my friend and for my country. I will see you when this whole thing in France is over. Don't expect me to be back for a while; I got a feeling this invasion is going to be long and bloody. _

_Goodbye to all,_

_Renton Thurston_

He pulled out a hammer and nail, went outside and nailed the note to the front door, so all would know. Knowing Matthieu, Moondoggie, Donald and (God forbid) Jane, they would be coming over frequently to visit him. At least they would know. He sighed, knowing that he might not come back. Duty calls, he thought. Don't dilly-dally. Get your suitcase and get going. He nodded to himself, knowing that duty and obligation always come first. He picked up his suitcase and walked to the busstop where Eureka and Holland were waiting.

»»»»»

Dominic and Anemone went back to their apaprtment to pack. They were getting ready to leave when Dominic realized that he had to call Mr. Lepinsky; they might be gone for a long time and if he didn't know where they were, they were sure to lose their jobs. He picked up the phone and turned the crank, connecting to the operator.

"Operator, get me the Lepinsky residence." There followed a short bout of "booop...booop" as the phone rang on the other line. Soon enough, someone picked up the phone and Dominic heard Mr. Lepinsky's Jewish New York accent.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Lepinsky?"

"Speakin'."

"This is Dominic Sorel. You know, from the pharmacy? I just wanted to call to ask if you heard of the invasion."

"Sure did. I think every Tom, Dick and Harry in this whole town has. Why?"

"Well...I called to let you know that Renton is going away to Normandy and I'm going with him, so we might not be back for few months."

"WHAT?! You two can't leave now! We's got ourselves woik to do! These next three months are our busiest!" Dominic put his face in his hands, shaking his head as he heard the New Yorker rant and rave and scream at him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lepinsky, but Renton's mind is already set. He's going to Normandy to help someone he knows over there, and I'm going with him to make sure he comes home."

"Who the hell do you two tink you are, leaving me in the loich (A/N: how he says "lurch", for those who don't know) like this?! You little..."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't let Renton go alone. He and I'll be back when this whole invasion blows over. There's nothing more I can do to change his mind." There was a period of silence as he heard the heavy breathing of the Jewish New Yorker, trying to realize the situation, until finally he had calmed down and spoke again.

"When did you say you two would be back? In a few months?"

"When the campaign in France is over, we'll be coming back. Please just wait for us, sir."

"I gots to hand it you two, you two are bold kids. Just don't do anything crazy and be safe. I'll hire me some fellas to cover for you for you twos until you gets back."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Lepinsky. Could you also let the school know that we may not be back when school starts, depending on how long the campaign lasts?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll do that. And, uh, Dominic?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Be careful, and watch Renton. Watch 'im close."

"I will, sir. I promise. Goodbye."

"Bye, kid, and take care."

He hung up the phone and turned to Anemone, who had her coat and dress on, with Gulliver on a leash, carrying a suitcase.

"You ready, Anemone?"

"Ready. Let's go."

"Right. We've wasted enough time." The two young lovers left the building, unmindful of whether they would return. They reached the busstop where they hailed a cab and headed for San Francisco's Union Station, where Renton and the others were waiting.

They reached the station and were greeted by Renton, Holland and Eureka. They had already gotten the tickets and went to their platform. The train was already boarding. Renton and Eureka boarded together first and went straight to their cabin in the Pullman car to get some sleep, as they would need to save their strength until they reached New York to board a ship for France. Holland boarded next and went into the observation car, so he could see the city they were leaving and might not come back to. Dominic and Anemone were the last to board and went into a coach car, observing the scene on the platform of the station.

There were soldiers everywhere, boarding trains for parts unknown. Where were they going? Neither of them could tell, and both doubted if _they_ could. There were children and women hugging and kissing soldiers goodbye, fearing it would be the last time they saw their beloved son, or brother or husband. Soldiers boarded their train too, and they saw a familiar figure standing by himself. A young blonde-haired boy, about eleven, wearing slacks and a plain white dress shirt, waving the soldiers goodbye and saying, "Good luck! The eyes of America, and the whole free world, are now on you! Renton oughtta be with you! _He_ would show those krauts what-for, just like he did at Stalingrad! Make him proud!"

They knew that boy anywhere. It was little Timmy Garnett, the boy who idolized Renton, the boy who called him "my hero", the boy who played the "_Columbia the Gem of the Ocean_" on his fife that day, after their victory against the brats in the prank war. The two young lovers smiled and stuck their heads out the window, calling to Timmy.

"Timmy! Timmy!" Timmy looked to them and soon recognized who they were.

"Hiya, fellas! What're you doin' on the train?"

"We're going away with Renton to fight the Germans! IN NORMANDY!" Timmy beamed.

"Really? Gee whiz, I wish I could go with you fellas! Wish Renton the best for me! And tell 'im to give the krauts a good whipping, for all of us!"

"We sure will!"

At last the conductor called "all aboard", the engine blew two sharp whistle blasts and the train started to move. The two waved to Timmy as the train departed from the station, faster and faster, until little Timmy was out of sight. They closed the window and sat back down. The train left the station, bound for New York, and beyond. What would lie ahead for the little band of friends? What challenges would they face? What obstacles lay in their path? Those questions and more were relayed in their head, as the lovers pondered and dreamed, until their eyelids slowly closed and they fell asleep, as the train rocketed through the night.

_"I Shall Return." ---General Douglas MacArthur_

* * *

A/N: They are now on their way, but challenges lie ahead? That's for next time, so you'll just have to wait and see... 

Since I'm such a history nut, I'll be naming the chapters from here on out unless otherwise specified, and I'll be beginning and ending them with qoutes from historical figures of this time and other times. Expect new changes. New challenges. New characters. New everything.

Until next time,

Renton and Eureka Forever!


	7. Chapter 7: BATTLE STATIONS!

_"To be prepared for war is the most effectual means of preserving peace." __---George Washington_

**Chapter Seven: BATTLE STATIONS!**

**June 10th, 1944**

**Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean**

They had gotten across the country faster than they intended. They were riding on the trains being pulled by those new diesel locomotives and had made it to New York from Chicago about twice as fast as it took to get to Chicago by a regular steam engine. They had made a friend out of a correspondent from the San Francisco Chronicle named Jacob Mason, but people who knew him called him "Stoner" for always throwing stones at those who trespassed on his property. He was slightly older than the others, in his mid-twenties, but still acted as if he was still a youth, his life only just begun.

The ship they were aboard was the British destroyer_ Moonlight_, a swift vessel that could "travel around all the capes in less than a week," a sailor boasted. In the large amount of spare time the band of friends had, they mostly kept to themselves in their cabin. Renton told all about the friend he had in France.

"Jacques lives in a town called St. Come-du-Mont, down by a river. He owns a farm he mans with his two brothers and one sister. Both of his brothers ran off to join DeGaulle so he and his sister Yvette are the only ones left."

"What about his parents?" Eureka asked.

"His father is in the French Resistance and from what I know so is Jacques. He probably has a whole resistance network goin', just like you had with your resistance in Russia, Holland." Holland nodded solemnly and smiled wistfully. If only Mikhail hadn't snitched, he thought.

"Did you and Yvette have anything goin' on?" Dominic asked with eyebrows raised. Eureka turned to Renton and smiled, joining in with Dominic. They loved messing with him like that. Renton smiled and laughed.

"Aw, shut up, Dom!" Dominic instantly doubled over in laughter, and fell on the cot he was sitting on. "Jesus, you never know when to stop, do you?" Anemone smiled and rolled her eyes at the sight of her fiancé laughing on the cot.

"No. He never stops."

"I was twelve anyway, and didn't know anything about love. Not until Eureka said it to me." The two blushed, and everyone else laughed out loud, Anemone falling on the cot next to Dominic. Stoner scribbled in his notepad, the way he always did when he had ideas for his report. Just then, a claxon siren blared and a sailor, an Belfast Irishman named Earl McGinnis, came barging in.

"I hates to be breakin' up this little moment of yers, but this is serious! The gallant crew has spotted a U-Boat! Come and see, laddies!"

"A U-Boat?" Dominic stood up immediately. "Like the kind they talk about on the radio?"

"Yep," Renton said solemnly. "The wolfpacks. The hunters of the Allied convoys. It's them alirght."

All ran out the cabin door and to the side of the ship. They looked out, seeing nothing but ocean. Renton pulled out his binoculars and looked out. Ocean, nothing but blue as far as the eye could see. He panned his vision right and left, scanning the ocean view until finally he spied somethingl; a tube, sitcking out of the water. He closed his vision on the object, and saw it glint in the Sun. He looked closer. The sight shocked him.

A periscope.

"My God," he whispered. He refocused his binocluars to make sure he was correct in what he was seeing. There was no mistake. It was a periscope. McGinnis was right. It was a U-boat, possibly a scout, searching for the convoy. Renton put away his binoculars and looked about him. They had seen it too...and all were stupefied. Renton spied the captain, an experienced sailor named Ferguson, near the bridge of the ship. He called to him.

"CAPTAIN FERGUSON! CAPTAIN FERGUSON! PERISCOPE OFF THE STARBOARD SIDE!"

Captain Ferguson rushed to thier side and grabbed his teliscope, and spotted the periscope. He turned to his first mate, a Quaker named Starbuck, and ordered him to call everyone to battle stations. The clean-shaven Quaker promptly pulled out his boatswain's whistle and blew, shouting. "ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!"

Renton and Dominic ordered Anemone and Eureka to stay inside the cabin, fearing they might be hurt. Holland protectively led the two young girls inside, and quickly followed Renton and Dominic to the ship's main guns, manning them, as the U-boat was beginning to surface. Stoner calmly took his position as he began passing the ammunition to the gunners. The U-boat's crew ran to the main gun of the sub, loaded a shell and fired. The shell whizzed through the air and struck the ship, close to the main guns. All were knocked off their feet by the shell, but the ship wasn't badly damaged. The gunners returned fire, shells landed close to the U-boat into the water and Renton, through the noise and chaos, yelled, "CLOSE IN ON 'EM! SINK THOSE JERRY COWARDS! COME ON!"

The men didn't need to be told twice. a shell hit the U-boat, knocking crew members dead into the water. The U-boat's remaining crew returned the gun to its original position, closed the hatch and the U-boat submerged. Renton watched as the underwater shadow of the U-boat moved away and under the ship, heading towards the stern. Renton spotted other crew members on the stern dropping depth charges, hering them shout, "set the depth for 30 meters!" "This ought to get them!" "Hurry up and drop them!"

Charges were dropped, and as each one detonated, they cast a sheet of water into the air, like a geyser. Renton counted the charges as they dropped. One. Two. Three. On the fourth charge, it cast metal shards and debris into the air. The crew, thinkling they struck a crippling blow against the sub, cheered and grabbed each other, but to their surprise, the U-boat showed its periscope, showing the damage through the curtain of ocean: The gun for surface firing had been destroyed. They now were going to try to torpedo the ship. Four times, in a dance of manuevers, the U-boat fired torpedoes. Four times, the_ Moonlight _dodges them. The U-boat had no choice but to try and ram the ship, a suicidal attack. The U-boat accelerated towards the ship, drifting closer and closer, as Renton and the other gunners fired as fast as they could into the U-boat. Finally...BOOM! CRACK! BANG!

The U-boat was hit. It stopped and slowl began to sink into the sea, amidst the cheers and sighs of relief from the _Moonlight_'s motley crew. Renton, Dominic Holland and Stoner stood outside for a long while, into the evening. They stared out towards the horizon, where England and France lay beyond, contemplating, wondering, pondering. There Renton's friend was waiting, desparately in need of help, as Renton well knew. What was happening to him now? He could not tell, nor could anyone else. At around midnight, Anemone brought Dominic inside, saying, "come and talk with me. It always helps." Of course Dominic couldn't say no to his fiancée and relented, walking inside and falling down on the cot. Holland followed inside, trying to gather his thoughts after the intense experience, quicly followed by Stoner, who went to work writing a piece of his report.

Renton stayed outside however, still trying to regroup himself and and gather himself from today's encounter which was nothing short of mind-blowing and almost paralyzing. They could've been struck and sunk, and then what would they have done? They would have been killed in the water by the U-boat's crew. As he was going over this in his mind, he heard footsteps behind him. It was Eureka. Eureka knew that after such a harrowing action, he would be a little numb to response. He was like that after the fighitng in Stalingrad and after the attempted sex act with Jane. She knew that under that hard surface, there lay a good man, a kind man, a man who wanted nothing but peace and quiet, who wanted this war over and who wanted a private married life with her. She knew exactly how to soften him up, comfort him.

She rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled him, rubbing her head softly against his. He smiled. Oh God, he thought, how I love her. How I love all of them. Dominic. Anemone. Holland. Stoner. And especially you, my darling Eureka. Thier lips inched closer until the barrier between them was sealed with a kiss, soft and warm. That always melted him, just that simple little action was enough to brighten his day. Their lips parted as they rested their heads on each other's shoulders, and Renton wrapped his arm around her, as they stared out into the dark ocean, the moon casting a relfection into the deep sea, sending diamonds of light dancing in their eyes. Out beyond the ocean lay Renton's friend, Jacques Debusset, waiting for help to arrive.

_"The time is always ripe for doing right." ---Martin Luther King, Jr._

* * *

A/N: hoped you liked that little adrenalin-pumping chapter as much as I did writing it. Next time... 

_The band of friends arrive in France and meet Jacques, and they learn his future plans. Jacques needs their help if his plas are to succeed._

What do I mean by that? Well, you'll just have to wait. Remember my friends, patience is a virtue!

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever!


	8. Chapter 8: Call to Arms

_"Where Liberty dwells, there is my country."---Benjamin Franklin_

**Chapter Eight: Call to Arms**

**June 11th, 1944**

**St. Come-du-Mont, Normandy, France**

The dark haired, green eyed eighteen-year-old awoke one morning to the early afternoon light. He stretched out and got off his bed, ready to start off the day bringing what resistance he had left together. His father, who had been in charge of the resistance in Normandy, gave him, his eldest son, the chance to command a force on campaign. He remembered what his father said to him shortly after the invasion had begun.

"Jacques, you are to follow the allied armies in their advance," he told him, "and give them assistance whenever you can in whatever venture they offer. I want you to follow them, all the way to Paris, and then come home."

"Yes, Father. I promise I will follow them wherever they go. But I have one question. There are so many Allied forces marching everywhere. Which ones should I follow?"

"I'll leave that to you, my son. I will let you choose the path you wish to follow. Just stick to the path once you've found it, and follow it to Paris."

"Yes, Father."

He turned to a map of France he had, pinned with flags everywhere to mark the movements of the Allies. He turned to the town of Carentan first, where there was an American flag pinned nearby. That was the 101st Airborne Division. He would start his campaign in Carentan, since that town was the closest. He also had friends in Carentan, in the resistance, who would undoubtedly join up with his force once the town was liberated. He looked west on the map. He spied the port city of Caen, still in German hands, signified by a flag with the hated Swastika. But the British and Canadians were preparing for a seige of the city, as there British and Canadian flags were seemingly converging on the city. He would go there next, and pick up reinforcements from the villages along the road. From there, a road led straight to Paris. A sound plan. But missing one key person. Renton.

Renton. The American who traveled with his father through Europe, before the war began. Renton, the boy who grieved at his parting with Jacques, promising one day he would return. Renton, the boy who played soldier with him and the children from the village. Oh, Renton, he thought, where are you? I need you here, to be a soldier one more time. Please come soon.

He got dressed and went outside to help Yvette tend to the farm. They were the only ones left now. Fabian and Adrian had left to join DeGaulle and the Free French forces, now coming ashore with the invasion. Until Renton came, he could do nothing but wait and tend to his daily duties as a farmer. So boring, he thought. Hurry, Renton. The sooner you come, the sooner we move out. Hurry, Renton, please hurry.

At around three in the afternoon, they had fiinshed their chores and were relaxing when he heard a knock at the door. Oh, it's probably Charles Beames, he thought, reporting on the status of his men and waiting for orders to move out. He motioned for the door, saying in French, "all right, all right, all right! I'm coming! Give me time!"

He opened the door wide, with his face in his hand, and said, evidently annyoned, "Oui? What is it?"

"Bonjour, Jacques," greeted a familiar voice, "from an old friend." Jacques looked up in amazement to see who it was. It was Renton, just as he was when came. He was dressed in a light grey trench coat, brown flat cap in hand, wearing grey knickerbockers and long white socks. He was so overcome with happiness that he didn't even notice the others with him. He quickly embraced Renton, almost lifting him up off the ground (working on the farm every day made him very strong), laughing heartily.

"Renton, mon ami! Mon ami! Mon ami! How happy I am to see you again! How long has it been?"

"Too long, Jacques! Too long! How is everyone?"

"Just as you left them! Of course they've all grown a little." The two laughed and embraced again. Jacques then turned his attention to Renton's little motley crew. There was a girl with dark wavy hair and grey eyes, wearing a green skirt and black penny loafers, another girl with red hair wearing an orange and white skirt with a tall jet black haired boy, decked in a black dress shirt grey officer's slacks ( the kind that bulged at the thighs), argyle socks and grey shoes. Then there was a grey-haired boy, wearing an olive green jacket grey slacks and black boots. Then he saw a young man, in his mid twenties, scribbling on a notepad, wearing a bright red beret and a bright green longsleeve shirt. Who were they? friends of his. Well. The more help he brought, the better. Jacques was going to need all the help he could get.

"Who are these people, Renton? Friends of yours."

"Yes. These are my friends from America. I'd like you to meet Eureka, my fiancee..." Eureka, the grey-eyed girl, stepped forward.

"Pleased to meet you, Jacques."

"...Dominic Sorel and Anemone Doolittle..." The two young lovers stepped forward.

"Renton's told us so much 'bout you."

"...Holland Novakov..." Holland shook Jacques' hand, firm and strong, but not so much to break his hand, not that Jacques' strong hand would break anyway.

"It is an honor to meet one of Renton's friends."

"...and Jacob Ferguson, but everyone calls him Stoner." Stoner tipped his beret to Jacques and continued to scribble on his notepad. Jacques smiled and laughed, motioning them to come in. They followed him into the farmhouse and greeted Yvette, a strikingly beautiful blonde-haired girl dressed in white.

"I'm so glad you came, Renton," Jacques said. "I really need your help. My father, as you know, is in charge of Resistance units in this area, and he has allowed me to recruit a little resistance group of my own. I've managed to gather all our old friends and the others from the neighborhood and some from the surrounding area and we are ready to go into combat. All I need are some good commanders." Renton and the others were confused.

"Jacques is going to go on campaign," Yvette explained. "Father has given him a chance to command a force on campaign, and he is going to follow the Allied armies in their advance. He's gathered a force of about 300, and he needs some company commanders." Jacques nodded. He turned to Renton and placed his hands on his shoulders, looking at him with grave seriousness and intent.

"Renton, I remember how we used to play war games, pretending to be soldiers when you first came here. But now's the time for us to behave like real soldiers. Renton...will you be my second-in-command?"

Renton stood, stupefied. He was almost hesitant to take the role of captain again. He would have to command a company again, just as he did in Stalingrad. He would have to fight again. He would have to kill again. This was the difficult choice he had to make. All the same, he couldn't leave him in the lurch. He had come all the way here to help him after all, so there was no point in refusing. But still...he would have to kill one more time.

"I really need your help, Renton."

Just then he remembered Vladimir, and how he said to him, that day when he asked him to be temporary company commander, "I really need your help, Renton." It echoed, those five words repeating in his head, over and over. What would Vladimir say if I said no? What would Jacques say? What would everyone here and at home say?

What would Eureka say?

He would be shunned, by all who knew him. He had to help Jacques, no doubt about it. He was here to help him in any way possible, even if it meant killing again. He couldn't say no. He stared at Jacques and smiled.

"Of course I will Jacques. I came to help after all." Jacques smiled. He knew Renton could be trusted.

"I knew I could count on you, Renton. I appoint you commander of the first company..._Captain_ Thurston." Renton smiled.

"A captain can't command without his lieutenants." He turned to Dominic and Holland. "I need some platoon commanders. Dominic?" Dominic smiled, clicked his heels and saluted.

"I'd serve under you any day, Renton!" Renton smiled and returned his salute. He then turned to Holland.

"Holland? How about it? It's a chance to try the resistance thing over." Holland smiled and saluted as best he could, lifting his arm with the torn shoulder, still in its recovering stages.

"There's no one I'd rather serve under, Renton. Just give me my orders." Renton reutrned the salute and smiled. Well, that's taken care of, he thought.

"When are we leaving and where?" Renton asked turning to Jacques, his superior.

"Today. We're heading for Carentan to link up with the 101st Airborne, and join in their assault."

"Good. We should force march our way there. Jacques, could you call everyone here? I'd like to know the men I'll be commanding."

"Of course Captain. Wait out front and they'll come." Renton smiled and motioned the boys to follow him. Eureka and Anemone followed Yvette to brief them on how they were to take part. Jacques smiled and said to himself, thanks be to God. He came. He really came. Now we are sure to succeed.

»»»»»

**Outskirts of Carentan, France**

**12 hours later**

The force, 280 men total, had marched nonstop for a grueling twelve hours until they reached the encampments of the 101st Airborne. In the time before they left St. Come, Renton had looked over his company and saw old familiar faces. He saw Charles Beames, a 17 year old with brown hair and fire in his eyes, perhaps the bravest man in the whole company, and in love with his platoon's nurse, a black haired girl named Ray Madalena.There was Paul Lavoissier, a reliable and dependable black haired 16-year-old and the company's flagbearer, a position many considered to be an honor and a privilege, since, as tradition held it, that whichever company had the colors would always be leading. There was also Alain and Jean-Paul, two 18-year olds who led two of the total six platoons of the company.

Jacques had given Renton many tools that would help him for the coming fight. He was given an M1 Garand semiautomatic rifle, which could fire faster than Renton's old Springfield bolt-action rifle. He was also given a Thompson submachine gun, told that "there would be a lot of close-up fighting", a prsopect Renton didn't like. The faces of the Germans he killed still hung over him, a great specter that followed him everywhere he went. He wanted to forget their faces but some memories can't be forgotten. Finally, he was given a saber, with a gold scabbard. This little weapon had a special connection to Jacques.

"It belonged to my great-great-great grandfather when he served in Napoleon's Imperial Guard," Jacques told him. "It was given to him by the Emperor himself. This should go from one commander to another."

Eureka and Anemone had been assigned as nurses, and Yvette was the overseer of all things medical in the little motley band. Eureka would tend Holland's platoon and Anemone would tend to Dominic's. Every platoon in the medic and a nurse, since it was tradition.

It was nine 'oclock, and Renton was walking among the camps, brightened with campfires, and filled with the bright faces of men who looked to him, their great captain, the fearless leader of this little band of freedom fighters. He did not join in their festivities, singing songs, drinking, playing cards. He had a great many things on his mind. All were confident that they could whip any boche (A/N: French derogatory term for German. pronunciation: bosh) force that opposed them. Renton sat by himself on a log, in front of a campfire, thinkling of what tomorrow might bring. He was soon joined by Dominic, decked in his "officer's garb," as he called it, given to him by the soldiers from the Presidio Army Base, back in San Francisco.

"How goes it, _Captain Thurston_?" Dominic asked with a smile.

"Passin' well, passin' well," Renton said, smiling slightly.

"You know, all the others around my campfire really wish you would join us. Why don't you come on up and sit a spell?"

"I got me a lotta things on my mind, Lieutenant Sorel," Renton said solemnly staring into the crackling flame. "I need some time to think. Maybe, when tomorrow's battle is over, I'll come and join you. But right now," He put his face in his hands, contemplating the sin he would have to commit tomorrow morning, "I just need to think."

"Suit yourself," Dominic said lightheartedly. He started to go.

"Lieutenant." Dominic turned to him.

"Good luck to you tomorrow."

"And to you, chief." Renton smiled.

"Godspeed your sleep, Lieutenant, and prepare your command for tomorrow's trials." Dominic saluted, and walked back to his campfire, where Renton heard one of his favorite songs, popular during the American Revolution, _Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier_. That song always brought him to tears, and yet calmed him, eased his jitteryness, so his nerves would be strong as the steel his sword was crafted from. He listened closely to hear Eureka singing the song. Her voice was that of an angel, and as he heard her beautiful voice, he began to crawl into his tent, where his cot lay, and listened to her as she sang that wonderful old tune:

_Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill  
Who can blame me, cryin' my fill  
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill,  
Johnny has gone for a soldier._

_Me, oh my, I loved him so,  
Broke my heart to see him go,  
And only time will heal my woe,  
Johnny has gone for a soldier._

_I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel,  
Likewise I'll sell my spinning wheel,  
And buy my love a sword of steel,  
Johnny has gone for a soldier._

_I'll dye my dress, I'll dye it red,  
And through the streets I'll beg for bread,  
For the lad that I love from me has fled,  
Johnny has gone for a soldier.  
_

He fell asleep, as Eureka came into the tent to join him, found him sleeping peacefully, seemingly unmindful of the battle that would erupt tomorrow, unmindful of the sin he would have to commit to help his friend, unmindful of any loss he might suffer tomorrow. Eureka smiled and kissed him on the lips, to which he responded with a delightful moan and a whisper of "darling..." Eureka took the empty cot next to him in the tent and said, "goodnight, my summer soldier. I will pray for you in the coming fight."

_"It is wise statesmanship wich suggests in time of peace we must prepare for war."---Clara Barton_

* * *

A/N: Whew. That took me until 1:15 in the morning, but it sure was worth it. Please R&R as always and here's a preview of what's to come next... 

_After taking Carentan without much resistance, the 101st Airborne prepares to stop the German counterattack at Hill 30 the next day, and with Jacques' company in the center of it all, Renton and company prepare for the fight of their lives._

That's all the info I can give you, my friends. Remember, patience is a virtue!

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever!


	9. Chapter 9: Fight for the One You Love

A/N: I've done a lot of research to make this as historically accurate as possible. Warning: Expect a lot of violence, blood, and some language in this chapter, as this is Renton's first real fight in France, _Band of Brothers _style. You have been warned. Why does this chapter have the same title as the story? Read an' see.

* * *

_"Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do or die."---Alfred Lord Tennyson, excerpted from his 1854 poem, "Charge of the Light Brigade"._

**Chapter Nine: Fight for the One You Love**

**June 13th, 1944**

**Hill 30, overlooking Carentan, France**

The little band of freedom fighters sat perched atop the small hill overlooking the town of Carentan. The Germans had not put up much of a fight the day before when they stormed the town. The little motley crew was surprised to discover that only a regiment of Fallschirmjägers (A/N: Fallschirmjägers: German paratroopers) defended the town itself! The little force was easily pushed out of the town and retreated southwest, to be reinforced and reequipped by the 17th SS Panzergrenadier Division. Jacques' force, along with the 101st Airborne, took up defensive positions southwest of town on a small hill known by the 101st as Hill 30, which commanded all movement in and out of the town.

Jacques gathered his two commanders (Renton and Henri (A/N: pronunciation: Ahn-ree) Boyard) along with all their subordinates to brief them on what they must do and why they must hold the ground at all costs.

"All right gentlemen," he told them. "This is how it has to be. Carentan is a vital crossroads. It's the only link between Utah and Omaha beach, and the only place where the armor coming from there can link up. We have to stop the boches from breaking through and retaking the town. We have to hold this position at all costs. We cannot retreat. We cannot withdraw. We are going to have to be stubborn today." He turned to Renton, shadowed by his subrodinates: Dominic, the quick, intuitive thinker. Holland, hard as a rock. Alain, wearing an old blue kepi his father wore in the Great War of 30 years ago. Jean-Paul, face hard and stern with determination. Hidden by the others, were the two other platoon commanders, Hector and Gerard, two cold and calculating fellows, decked in the drab horizon blue French uniforms of the Great War, and wearing steel Adrian helmets (A/N: Helmets used by the French in World War One).

"Renton," Jacques said, "You have your orders. You are not to retreat under any circumstances. No matter what happens, you are not to give one millimeter of ground! We are Frenchmen fighting on our home soil, and we will not retreat from our home. Understand?" Renton and his subordinates promptly saluted and Renton responded,

"Oui, mon commandant. I will not fail you." Jacques smiled.

"I know you won't. Get to your post and prepare youselves." Renton and the others left for theri respective posts, waiting for the coming fight.

Hours passed. Renton told the men to wait until they came to within effective range. Renton looked to his left and right, overlooking his men. He saw Dominic, down in the trench with his men, aiming a BAR (A/N: BAR: Browning Automatic Rifle) given to him by a soldier in the 101st off into the distance. He saw Holland, looking through his binoculars, holding his old Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle. He had all the looks of a leader. Commanding. Bold, yet cautious. Unmindful of the horror about to befall them. Renton smiled. He was one of the best. He turned to see Paul, holding his banner close to him, staring off to the front. He struck a pose he saw once in a history book he had on the American Civil War: a colorbearer, staring off into the distance waiting for the enemy to come. If ever Renton ordered a charge, Paul was sure to be in the lead. He saw Charles, brave brash Charles, crouching in his foxhole, brandishing a Mauser bolt-action rifle he got off a dead German, with his radio close by, ready to call for help when needed. He would not retreat, even if an order was given. No one was to retreat, no matter what circumstances prevailed.

He pulled out his binoculars and looked to the front. There was not a living soul out in the green Normandy field. There were some places for the krauts to hide, but mostly it was open ground. The krauts would come straight up and try to break through as fast as possible. They might even bring in some armor. He looked to his left and saw two soldiers from his company, new recruits from Carentan, carrying bazookas, effective and deadly anti-tank weapons against German panzers.

"Are you all right, Renton?"

Renton jumped, taken by surprise by the voice. He turned around to see it was Eureka, decked in a blue and white dress, wearing a nurse's hat with a red cross.

"I'm fine Eureka," he said solemnly. "I'm just a little nervous is all. This is really my first fight." Eureka put her hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be alright. You made it through the fighitng in Stalingrad, so why shouldn't you make it through this?"

"I guess you're right." Renton turned to her and kissed her on the lips softly, trying to ease his tension for the coming fight.

"Go back to the aid station, Eureka. I got a feeling this fight is going to be a bloody one." Eureka nodded and walked back to the aid station, leaving Renton in his state of solitude. He meant no disrespect, she knew that. He always has to be left alone to do his work. Nothing unusual.

Renton heard a noise. Footsteps, rapidly approaching their position. He looked to his front and saw figures moving to where he stood. He looked for binoculars to have a closer look.

Germans, coming straight at them, and coming fast! Renton looked to the sky, hidden by the trees, and said a silent prayer. Lord, make us fast and accurate. Prepare our arms for the coming struggle. Give us the victory.

This was it. this was the fight all had been waiting for. He put away his binoculars in their case and looked to his left and right. His men, staring straight at the oncoming Germans, some carrying rifles, some manning machineguns, waiting for his orders to open fire. He gave them.

"READY!" All the men leveled their rifles, and cocked the machine guns, some shaking slightly with fear.

"AIM!" They all pointed their rifles to the advancing enemy, still coming on, with bayonets fixed. Renton told the men to hold their fire until they came close. They came on, closer and closer. Renton said to himself, "Come on. Come on. Come close, and hesitate." The Germans were now no less than a hundred yards from where he stood. It would not do to wait another second. He pulled out his saber, and waved it in the air.

"FIRE!"

The word was enough. All fired a tremendous volley into the advancing Germans. Their rifles flamed and roared in the Germans faces, like blinding blaze of lightning, followed quickly by a deadly thunderbolt. The effect was appalling. The entire front line of Germans with few exceptions went down in the consuming blast. Renton called for suppressive fire to pin the Germans down, walking amongst his men to encourage them and firing as he went. He spoke to them, saying, yelling through the chaos and the German shelling, "C'mon boys keep up your fire!" "I want fire superiority on those krauts! "Keep shooting! Keep shooting! No one breaks through!" "We're not gonna live long enough to run outta ammo, so keep firing!" He saw a boy, about 15, crouching in his foxhole, clutching his beret, unwilling to come out and fire. Renton walked to him, infuriated.

"What the hell is this?! Get up, kid! C'mon! Get up and do your duty as a man!" The boy turned to him, with eyes black, little pieces of coal. "C'mon, boy! C'mon! What are you gonna think of yourself tomorrow?! Get up!" He grabbed the boy and shook him trying to get him on his feet. "Get up on your feet, soldier! C'mon!" The boy slowly started to rise. "That's it, kid! You can do it!" He leveled his rifle, but would not fire. "Fire your weapon, boy! Hit those fucking Germans, kid! Pour into 'em!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The boy gathered his fear and swallowed it, one piece at a time with each shot, picking off all the Germans in his sight as they came at him. One. Two. Three. "Keep firing, kid! Don't slack it off!" He stopped to reload, and Renton covered him. He left him to go to Charles, saying to the young boy, "Keep it up, boy!" He reached Charles' foxhole and found him firing like mad, as if the whole German army was coming at him, and he was the last one left.

"Charles, get on the radio and call for armor support! I got a feelin' the krauts are bringin' up the tanks! Tell whoever responds to hurry!"

"Oui, mon capitaine!" Charles dropped his rifle and got on the radio, relaying the signal for "support needed." "2nd Armored this is 101. We need armor support now! Over." Crackle on the radio. "2nd Armored, do you read me, over?" Renton left him to check on Dominic and Holland. He came to Dominic first, firing his BAR like crazy, shaking his fist at the oncoming Germans, yelling, roaring at the top of his lungs, "COME ON, GOD DAMN YOU!"

"How's it goin', Dom?" he asked, getting hoarse from all the shouting and smoke in his lungs. Dominic turned to him, his face filled with the exuberance of a soldier who had recieved word of the enemy's surrender, the smile that symbolized all soldiers' dreams: triumph.

"We're doin' just fine, Cap'n! What're your orders?"

"I need you to bring up your AT (A/N: AT: anti-tank) weapons to the front. I got a feelin' the krauts are comin' with their Panzers!"

"You got it, chief!" Dominic looked to the two soldiers carrying bazookas, and whistled, motioning them to come up. They promptly did so, and assumed their postions next to him in the trench. Renton smiled and Dominic saluted and the two friends parted.

Rento went to Holland next, firing quick sprays of Thompson at the oncoming Germans, whose advance had been stopped cold. Holland was calmly firing his Mosin-Nagant, while others next to him, crouched in foxholes and in trenches fired their rifles and machineguns.

"How are you comin' on, Holland?" Holland turned to him, smiling.

"We're doing fine," he said, pounding his fist on a log used to cover the trench. "Just fine! Renton, after this, I'll make sure you get nominated for a medal." Renton smiled.

"We'll talk about that later. Keep up your fire and bring up your AT weapons. The krauts want this town back _bad_, and they'll prob'ly bring up some Panzers to help. No matter what happens, Holland, no retreat! Don't give an inch!" Holland smiled and nodded, firing at the pinned down Germans. Renton then walked to Paul, his flag in the crook of his arm, firing his French Lebel bolt-action rifle at the Germans. He stood beside him, looking over all his men, firing ther rifles and machine guns at the enemy. They are all so brave, he thought. Father, if you could see me now! I'm fighitn for liberty, for freedom, for all our fine friends at home...

...and I'm fighitn' for the one I love.

He turned to Paul, his face smeared with grit and grime, firing his rifle and reloading, clutching the French banner, the _tricolour_, the Red White and Blue of the Old French Republic.

"How are you doin', Paul?" Paul turned to him and smiled tiredly as he pulled out a five-round clip and loaded it into the rifle.

"Je suis très bien, mon capitaine. Et vous?" Renton knew very well he spoke English, just as other French did. They learned it as a second language in school.

"I'm fine. A bit worn, a bit worn." Paul turned his coal black eyes to Renton, smiling wider.

"I'll tell you this, Renton. The boys are putting up one hell of a fight!"

"They are, indeed!" REnton turned to Stoner, the only man in the rear, taking pictures with his camera and scribbling furiously in his notepad. God, Renton thought, exasperated, doesn't he know when to stop? I need every man on the wall! He ran over to Stoner, tossed to him a spare rifle and yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, STONER? GRAB A RIFLE AND GET IN THE TRENCH!"

"But I'm a correspondent. I'm not supposed to fight."

"Correspondent or not, you're gonna fight like the rest of us! Now get in there, Goddammit!" Renton's rant so scared Stoner that he quickly grabbed the rifle and ran to the trench, firing like the devil.Well, that's taken care of, he thought. I need every man I can get on the walls. He ran over to Charles, still speaking into the radio, more like yelling.

"Charles, where the hell is the armor?!"

"They're not answering!" He turned to the radio, yelling, "2nd Armored, can you hear me?! CAN YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?! 2nd Armored, answer me, goddammit! Hello?! HELLO?! Answer me, for the love of God!"

Renton looked to his front. More infantry was coming up, a lot. Men in his line began to fall, as the German reinforcements fired into his line. One by one, they were hit and taken to the aid station, where Eureka, Anemone, Yvette and Ray were. A man was hit in the neck and fell next to Charles, and Charles immediately ran to him, shaking him trying to get him back to the line.

"C'mon, mon ami! Don't die! Hang in there!"

"BEAMES!" Renton shouted. "Where's the fucking armor!?"

"Capitaine, he's going to die! He needs help!"

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE IF YOU DON'T GET ON THAT FUCKING RADIO!"

Charles realized the soldier was dead, and shot at the oncoming Germans in blind fury. "FUCK! GODDAMN THOSE FUCKING BOCHE BASTARDS!" He went back to his radio, trying desparately to call for help. The whole thing was rapidly falling apart, all around Renton, and just then, he heard a rumble, and the ground shook beneath him. He saw silhouettes on the horizon. He pulled out his binoculars and examined the approaching objects, fearing the worst. He saw them, coming on...

Panzers.

He turned to his men, who had seen the enemy tanks coming on. One soldier, not 16, stood up and yelled in French, "We gotta get outta here!"

Renton sensed his men beginning to waver and shouted to him, for all to hear, "We are NOT falling back! Keep firing!" All the men raised their guns and resumed fire. Renton then turned to Dominic and Holland and yelled, "Dominic! Holland! Get your AT weapons firing!" Just then, he heard the whirring of a tank turret and looked to his front to see a Panzer, not 150 yards away, with its gun aiming right at him. He froze, paralyzed with fear, and yelled, "Everybody get down! This is gonna be bad!"

BOOM!

A shell hit near where he stood and knocked him off his feet, sent him flying a few feet off the ground and then he landed hard on his back. There was a sharp pain in his torso, and he was bleeding profusely. Shell fragments had hit him in the torso. He tried to get up but couldn't. His vision began to blur, and he saw Charles Beames.

Charles looked to his old captain and yelled in utter anguish, "SHIT! THEY GOT RENTON!" He turned to the oncoming Germans and in utter anger and rage at their wounding his commander, lifted his rifle, stood over the trench and fired like the devil into the Germans. He yelled to them, "HEY KRAUTS! YOU WANT ME? FUCKING TAKE ME! TAAAAAAKKKE MEEEEEE!"

He got his wish.

A shell fell right where he was and sent him flying through the air and his body fell next to Renton. Renton slowly turned his head and saw Charles, blankly staring at him, one arm extended, body mutilated and mangled. His fingers twtiched, then relaxed. Renton fearing the wrost, spoke as best he could, coughing.

"Charles? Charles?" Renton asked as best he could, coughing. No answer. Only that blank stare given to all only by the dead. Renton looked into the distance as best he could, his vision blurred, and saw the figure of Ray Madalena, Charles' lover, the platoon's nurse, rush to his body and hunch over, crying her heart out for her lost love. She tried to lift the body and drag it to the aid station, and just as she got his body over her shoulder...

BANG!

A bullet went through her neck and and she fell down dead, next to Charles. Charles Beames, perhaps his best man in the whole company, was now dead, and next to him lay the love of his life, Ray Madalena dead. He grieved momentarily for the loss of his best man. We'll miss you, Charles and Ray, he said to himself. In his state of delusion and convolutedness, he even hear him speak. He said, "Give 'em hell, Renton." I will, Charles, Renton thought. I will. Renton looked upward to the sky and groaned in pain, coughing. He wiped his mouth and saw through his blurred vision his hand, slightly red. Saliva mixed with blood. Renton then saw two figures come to him. They were Dominic and Holland. They crouched over him and said, "Chief, are you all right? Are you okay? Answer me Renton." Renton tried to speak, but couldn't and coughed up blood. He stared at them blankly.

"Don't die on me, chief!" he heard Dominic say at the top of his lungs. "Don't you fucking die!"

"Renton, we've sent for Eureka. She'll take you to the aid station," Holland said calmly.

"I won't leave you, fellas," Renton said, coughing. "I'm not leaving the line. I will not be moved until this engagement is decided. Go back to your posts. Now." Dominic and Holland nodded and went back to the lines just as Dominic was wounded in the shoulder, then in the leg. Dominic turned to the Germans and yelled, "Those goddamn fucking sons of bitches!" He fired his BAR into the Germans, killing a good score of them. Holland covered him as he limped back to the aid station.

Renton stared into the sky, his thoughts incoherent and muddled. The fight continued to rage around him and he felt that his men were starting to get shaky. He heard Holland's manly voice call, "Steady, men! Steady now! Don't let them come through. Not one breaks through!" Renton coughed as he heard a familar female voice call, "RENTON!"

He looked to see his love, Eureka. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, a dam unable to hold back the flow. The welled up eyes, grey as the snow in Russia, looked at him with concern and fear, fear that he was dead, fear that he was dying, fear that this may be the last time she would speak to him.

"Eureka..." Renton began. "What're you doing here? You should be in the aid station."

"I'm getting you out of here, Renton. I'm not going to let you die!"

"No one's gonna die, Eureka. I'm not gonna die."

"I don't care! I'm taking you away from here!"

"I will not be moved until this fight is won. I won't leave my men."

"Renton, don't I mean anything to you?" Renton wrapped his arm around her neck, pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

"Eureka, you mean the whole world to me, but I can't leave here. The men need me. I won't leave until this battle is won, Eureka."

"If you won't leave, then I'll stay." Renton shook his head, coughing.

"No, Eureka. I want you to go back to the aid station. Your place in this fight is there. Now go back to your post." Eureka nodded, knowing, as well as Renton did, that if she stayed she would be killed like Ray. She started to go when Renton stopped her.

"What is it, Renton? Changed your mind?" she said smiling slightly.

"No. Before you go, give me a tourniquet before I bleed to death?" Eureka nodded and got out her medical kit. She quickly produced gauze, bandages and tape, and began to wrap it tightly around Renton's wound, trying desparately to control the blood flow. in about two minutes the deed was done and Renton's bleeding had slowed. Eureka then left him, has he instructed her, heading back for the aid station.

Renton turned to the front, trying desparately to stand, but couldn't. He spied an abandoned machinegun who's crew had been killed. He crawled to it, cocked the machine gun and fired like mad. He was overcome, not with pain, but with rage. They had killed Ray and Charles! They had killed Ray and Charles! They would pay for they had done!

"Come an' get me, you dirty krauts! Come an' get me! You stupid fascist pigs! You ignorant servile scum! YOU'LL PAY FOR KILLING CHARLES AND RAY! YOU'LL PAY!" Just then he saw the men falling back to the town. They were not his men, but the 101st Airborne! They were retreating! And they told us to defend the hill at all costs! Renton turned to the retreating men and yelled as best he could, "Come back you fools! Come back and fight! Cowards! Traitors!" Renton turned to looked to his men, showing signs of running away, but just as his men were about to turn and run, he heard Holland's voice call, "No retreat, men! Victory or Death!" All cheered and kept up their fire, determined to make the Germans' triumph a costly one. Renton kept firing, unmindful of the bullets and shells and the other agents of death whizzing around him, unmindful of the men falling all around him. No withdrawal, Jacques had told him, and so they would they would stay, they would die fighting for their home, fighting for the ones they loved. Custer's Last Stand all over again, Renton thought. He then heard a rumble coming from behind him. He looked to the rear and the sight he saw filled him with sweet relief.

The 2nd Armored had arrived. They came storming up through the hedgerows on either side of them, firing into the enemy tanks' sides, where they had the weakest armor, tearing the Panzers to shreds. The 101st came up behind them, firing and advancing to their original positions as the Germans started to waver and fall back. He heard Holland call for something Renton never expected.

"FIX BAYONETS!" The click of bayonets as they were fixed onto the muzzles of the rifles filled Renton's ears and then he heard him roar that one word that would set him apart as a commander.

"CHARGE!" Holland's platoon, seemingly unmindful of their wounded captain, rushed out of their foxholes and trenches and charged headlong into the retreating Germans. Renton rose as best he could, ignoring the pain in his chest, pulled out his sword, and called to the rest of the company in French, "POUR LA FRANCE! CHARGE!" The company roared and cheered as they ran out of the trenches and out to join Holland in the charge. They pushed the Germans out of the fields and over the ridge they came down from at the beginning of the fight.

The Germans, taken by surprise, retreated rapidly further south, not stopping to fire, not stopping for anything, running for their lives. The company cheered their two gallant leaders as Paul stepped forward onto the crest of the ridge and waved the flag, signifying victory. The rest of Jacques' force, safe in their trenches cheered and tossed their caps in the air, witness to the heroic charge. Eureka and the nurses came out and saw the grand sight and cheered. Even Dominic, using his BAR as a crutch came out to witness the great deed.

Renton, atop the ridge, completely exhausted and the pain in his torso getting to him, fell to the ground, listening to the cheers and the chanting of his men, reveling in their triumph over the evil Nazi invader. Renton saw Eureka followed by nurses come to him. She smiled, extremely proud of him for his brave deed, and said, "That was the best sight I ever saw, Renton." Renton was placed on a stretcher and taken to the aid station, Eureka walking next to him. Renton pulled her close and kissed her passionately, to try and show her what he was fighting for today.

"What was that for, Renton?" Eureka asked with a smile.

"Just to show what I was fighting for out there."

"What _are _you fighitng for?"

"I'm fighting for the one I love." Eureka smiled wider and returned his kiss, just as they reached the aid station, where he would patched up and his wounds treated.

And let's be honest. Isn't that what all soldiers fight for? The principle of freedom, the conquest of land, the fight for pay, all those things matter not when it comes to that. In the end, all soldiers fight for the ones they love.

_"From this day until the ending of the world...we shall in it be remembered...we few, we merryfew, we lucky few..we band of brothers and whoever sheds their blood for me shall be my brother..."---British King Henry V to his troops before the battle of Agincourt (taken form William Shakespeare's play, "Henry V")_

* * *

A/N: Whew. That was intense, wasn't it? Well, so ends Renton's first battle here. Here's a preview of what's to come next: 

_With Renton completely recovered from his wounds, the little band of freedom fighters move out to join in the seige of Caen, but they immediately encounter problems that slow their advance. Hint: It involves someone who can't read a map!_

That's all the info I can give you. Until next time, just wait, and as always, Read and Review. ANY ADVICE THAT MAY HELP IS GREATLY APPRECIATED.

Thank you all,

Renton and Eureka Forever.


	10. Chapter 10: Lost: Days One and Two

A/N: Here's the situation. Three days have passed since the horrific fight for Hill 30, called by many afterwards as the Battle of Bloody Gulch, and Renton has recovered from his wounds and recieved (along with Dominic, Holland and all wounded in the battle) the Purple Heart. Holland also recieved the Bronze Star for his brave charge. Now the little motley crew marches to join the British and Canadians in their seige of Caen, the major port city in Normandy.

They have followed Jacques' instructions to stick to a road that supposedly leads straight to Caen, but they enter a large patch of woods, an anomaly in the French hedgerow country. The band of friends become nervous that they might not be on the right road, but Jacques tells them to keep going. After a bunch of map checks throughout the day on June 17th and18th, Renton assesses that they are on the right track, but Dominic, who we all know can't read a map for the life of him, is skeptical. At one point in the day after an argument with Renton, Holland, and Jacques if they were following the right road, Holland crumples up the map and throws it at Dominic, telling him, "If you have no faith in Jacques' judgement, you don't deserve to be here." After their argument, Dominic, out of pure anger and frustration, kicks the map into a nearby creek, losing it forever. He doesn't tell anyone of his deed. They have now pitched camp in the middle of the woods, and hear noises outside their camp.

Warning: There is a lot of language in this as tensions begin to rise and some eerie and creepy scenes, so expect not being able to sleep for 3/4 a night. This scared me shitless, and I _wrote_ it!

* * *

_"Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other."---Maya Angelou_

**Chapter Ten: Lost (Day One)**

**June 18th, 1944**

**8:45 pm, Somewhere in the woods between Carentan and Caen**

After a long day of marching the little motley crew had ptiched camp in the woods and was in good spirits. They had earned a proud position throughout the whole French Resistance for their actions on Hill 30, or "Bloody Gulch", as it was now called by the men. Renton, recovered from his wounds he recieved, sat around the campfire joining his men in their festivities. Jacques even broke open bottles of wine he had gotten from a farmer along the march and passed them out among the men.

"But I said I don't drink!" Renton protested.

"It'll help you get to sleep. You'll need your strength for tomorrow. We'll be marching all day," Jacques said.

"C'mon, Renton! There's a first time for everything!" Holland said, taking a drink. Renton gulped and took a gulp, buringin his throat.

"Oh, boy!" Renton said, rolling his eyes, trying not to cough. "I fucking hate wine!" Eveyone laughed hard, especially Dominic, unmindful of his secret reckless deed earlier that day, who nearly fell off the log he was sitting on. Just then, a boy brought Dominic a guitar to play some campfire songs with. Dominic soon struck up a tune familiar among many, a Civil War song played by Sherman's Army as they marched through Georgia to the sea, freeing blacks who joined them in their march...the march to Freedom. And the song had been adapted especially for this occasion All around the campfire soon joined in (A/N: The original title of the song is "Marching through Georgia"):

_Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another song  
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along  
Sing it as we used to sing it, 300,000 strong  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_Chorus: Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!  
Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!  
So we sing the chorus from the beach to gay Paree  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_How the Frenchmen shouted when they heard the joyful sound  
How the turkeys gobbled which our commisary found  
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_(Chorus)_

_Yes and there were Frenchmen who wept with joyful tears,  
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;  
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_(Chorus)_

_"Old Ike's dashing Yankee boys will never make the coast!"  
So the saucy kraut boys said and 'twas a handsome boast  
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the Host  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_(Chorus)_

_So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train,  
Three hundred miles of latitude, and sixty to the main;  
Treason flies before us, for resistance is in vain  
While we were marching through Normandy._

_(Chorus)_

All cheered as the song ended, and Renton looked close to see that the boy who brought Dominic's guitar was the 15-year-old boy who was shaking with fear that day, cowering in his foxhole, until, with Renton's encouragement, he rose and swallowed his fear.

"I recongize you," Renton said later to the boy.

"So do I...mon capitaine," said the boy, his voice cracking. "You were the one who got me out of my foxhole." Renton nodded solemnly.

"What's your name soldier?"

"Turat, mon capitaine. Jean-Baptiste Turat (A/N: pronunciation: too-rah)." The young boy saluted him, and strode alone towards his cot, yawning. Renton realized it was it was getting darker by the second, and they should all turn in. They would need their strength for the march tomorrow. He walked back to the campfire, and listened to them, talking about life back home, about what new challenges awaited them tomorrow, and about if there were Germans in this area.

"Naw!" Dominic scoffed. "Prob'ly some Vichy (A/N: A City in southern France. Pronunciation: vee-shee. After the fall of France in 1940, The Nazis installed a puppet government, centered in Vichy France. The government was notorious for its collaboration with the Nazis in their war atrocities. Frenchmen who who supported the Germans or fraternized with them were often called Vichy Frenchmen, being seen as traitors.) farmers or a patrol or two but nothing big enough to devolve into a fight!"

"Don't be too sure," Holland said calmly. "Jacques says the road we're following is behind enemy lines, and so we might run into many Germans." Dominic laughed.

"We got the kraut boys on the run. They wouldn't _dare_ attack us!" Renton shook his head and Dominic's apparent blind overconfidence.

"They're not finished yet, Lieutenant Sorel. Now that we've established a beachhead, they're gonna fight us hard everywhere. Trust me, boys. This campaign will be a long and costly one." Holland nodded, agreeing with Renton's foresight. Dominic smiled.

"Renton you know what your problem is? You read too much! I think that field manual I gave is starting to get to you, Renton! Try not to think too hard!" Renton smiled wistfully and shook his head.

"A good commander uses his head, Dom. And we all need clear heads for tomorrow morning. I think it's 'bout time we turn in."

"Yeah that sounds good," Dominic said, yawning. "I'm tired. Should we leave the fire or put it out?"

"Put it out. We can't attract attention to ourselves. There might be some Germans around here."

"I seriously doubt it, but okay."

They put out the fire and went to their respective tents to sleep. They would wake up early the next morning to get a headstart on marching. Dominic was the last to fall asleep, still remembering how he kicked the crumpled map into the creek, how he saw it floating down the creek, and how he didn't go after it, feeling as he still did now, that the map was useless. Still he couldn't keep his deed a secret forever.

»»»»»

**June 19th, 1944 (Day Two)**

**2:45 am, six hours later**

"Renton? Renton?"

Renton stirred from his peaceful sleep and found Eureka next to his cot, obviously scared out of her wits.

"Eureka, what's the matter?"

"I hear noises outside." Renton stood quiet and looked outside to see what Eureka was talking about. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it into the woods, seeing nothing but darkness and trees, as far as the eye could see. Then he heard a noise.

Snap! Crackle! Crackle! Snap! Snap!

"Did you hear that, Renton?!" Eureka asked, shaking with fear and anxiety.

"Sure did. There's something strange going on. Stay here Eureka; I'm gonna wake the others up."

"Yes, Renton." Renton went outside and pulled out a toy cricket given to him and to his men by member of the 101st. "One click is to be answered by two clicks," the paratroopers told them. "And if you don't get that answering click, hit the dirt and open fire." Renton stepped into Dominic's tent and found him, Anemone and Holland sleeping on their cots.

"Hey! Wake up!" he whispered. He nudged them to try and wake them up. "There's somethin' happening outside." They all stirred and rubbed their eyes, and found their commander up and awake.

"What's up, chief?" Dominic asked sleepily.

"Eureka and I heard something outside."

"Prob'ly a rabbit or somethin'."

"A rabbit could not make that loud a noise, Dom! Everyone get your crickets, and come outside. Quick!" They had no choice but to follow their commander's orders. They all got their crickets and got dressed. They all stood outside, staring into the night, waiting for the noises to start. Renton heard something. Snap! Snap!

"Hey!" he whispered. "D'you hear that?"

"I don't hear shit," said Dominic.

"Be quiet and listen!" They all knelt down on the ground, pricking up their ears and trying to see into the darkness. Then they heard a rustling in the distance, followed by what sounded like twigs snapping.

"Maybe it's deer or somethin'," Dominic said, looking anxiously to Renton.

"It could be deer. I don't fuckin' think it's deer though, Dominic."

"Well, we'll know in a second." Dominic clicked his cricket once and waited for a responding "click-click, click-click". There was a slight silence as all waited intently for a response. The rustling grew louder, along with the snapping. They had heard a sound like this before, last night. It sounded exactly like what they were hearing now, and it sounded like it was coming from all around them, as if a band of who-knows-what was closing in on them. It was louder now, and sounded closer to them with each passing moment.

"I don't think it's deer, Dominic," Holland said quietly. "It's sounds like the stuff last night. It's coming from all around us."

Rustle-rustle-rustle. SNAP! SNAP! CRACKLE! Dominic shook with fear.

"D'you fellas hear that?"

"Yes!" Renton said annoyedly, shushing him. "Fuckin' listen! Holland, try to call whatever that is with your cricket." Holland clicked his cricket and waited for a response.

"Hello?" Holland called into the darkness. More rustling and snapping. "Hello?"

Crack!

"Oh God, what was that?" Anemone said, scared out of her mind. Crackle! Crackle! Snap! Bang! Snap!

"Jesus Christ!" Dominic said, now thoroughly shook up with fear. "What the fuck is that?" CRACKLE! "FUCK!"

Crack crack snap!

"Well, whatever it is, it isn't scared by our shouting," Renton said, trying to keep what sanity was left in the crew. The rustling and twigs snapping grew softer now, seemingly coming closer. Renton looked about his men. Holland, face cold and solemn, staring into the darkness, clutching his Mosin-Nagant. Dominic, eyes widened and pupils dilated with fear and anxiety. Anemone, turning away from the front, face in her hands, scared out of her head completely.

"But it sounds like footsteps," Renton said to Holland.

"I know," Holland concurred. "That's a person."

"Fellas, I'm not gettin' any visuals. Whoever it is, they're trying to contact us, so we need to stay out here, in case they're one of our guys."

"You gotta fucking stay with us, Renton!" Dominic said, completely scared out of his mind.

"I am, I am. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"What time is it? Is it near morning right now? Please say it's five or some shit."

Renton pulled out his pocketwatch and checked it with his flashlight: 3:00 exactly.

"It's three o'clock."

"Fuck! This is bullshit. This is absolutely fucking crazy."

"I'm sorry fellas. We'll be outta here soon."

"I have nothing, nothing to do with this," said Dominic as he lay down on the ground, clutching his BAR, secretly contemplating his kicking the map into the creek, still unknown to everyone. He gulped nervously, as he aimed his rifle into the darkness, fearing an ambush. "I swear to God this is bullshit, man."

They stayed outside that night until they fell asleep, wary from staring into the night, waiting for whatever it is to come.

»»»»»

**5:00 am**

Renton was the first to wake up and to the first to be greeted by an odd sight. In front of him stood six piles of rocks, formed in a circle around them, as if someone had marked them as the chosen. For what? He didn't know. He felt chills go down his back as he eyed the strange spectacle, and his want to leave grew larger with every passing moment. It was obvious that whoever had placed those rocks didn't want them here. They needed to move while there was still light. He turned to the others next to him, and saw they were just starting to wake up.

"Dominic! Holland! Everyone get up! We gotta move." Dominic looked about him and turned to Renton in bewilderment.

"What is all this?" Dominic asked.

"I woke up 5 seconds ago and found these piles of rocks around us."

"Renton, are you sure these were not here when pitched camp?" Holland asked, looking sternly to his chief.

"Holland, I'm fucking positive. These were not here! How could we have came out last night and sat between six piles of rocks, just by coincidence?" Holland remained silent, still contemplating the odd and eerie sight.

"Don't you guys think this is strange?!" Renton said turning to each one of them.

"It's really fucking wierd, Renton," Dominic said, "But it doesn't matter at this point, 'cause all I want to do is get to Caen. Whatever it is, fellas! Whatever it is at this point, whatever it is, it doesn't matter. We are obviously not wanted here, so let's just pack up our tents, get our shit together and walk."

"Fine, fine. We're outta here. We're outta here."

"Alright, cool."

All started to go and pack as Stoner who had slept through the noise, came to the strange spectacle and started taking photos, circling around the piles of rock, camera clicking and bulb flashing. All turned to him, incredulous that he never knew when enough was enough.

"Stoner," Renton called, agitated, "put the fuckin' camera down! Let's get this shit packed up and go!"

"All right hang on a second!" Stoner took moore snapshots of the camera and wrote in his notepad.

"Come on, Stoner!" Dominic called, packing up the tent. "Enough is enough!" Anemone rubbed his shoulders, trying to calm him.

"What's the matter, hun? Scared?" Dominic ignored her.

"No, I'm not scared, Anemone! I'm just tired and hungry. I'm fucking like...I'm just done, Anemone. I'm just fucking done."

"We all are, Dominic. It won't be much longer."

"I hope so."

In about five minutes, the whole company was ready to move out. All that was needed was the map, which Renton was supposed to have. Since they were the first company, they were the ones at the front of an advance, and they were the ones that would determine the route used. Renton searched through his pockets. The map was not there. He turned to his commander, Jacques.

"Did you take it?"

"No I didn't, Renton. Dont' play headgames with me, Renton!" Renton checked his pockets again, this time looking in his trenchcoat, still feeling nothing. Renton sighed and put his face in his hands, shaking his head. I've lost the map, he thought. I must take responsibility for this.

"I don't have it. We gotta go. I don't have it." Jacques' eyes widened.

"Are you serious Renton, or are you just trying to fuck with me?"

"Why would I fuck with you about that? I don't have the map!"

"That is bad, Renton!"

"I know it's bad!"

"That is _so_ bad! That is the most irresponsible thing you could have possible done Renton!"

"I know that," he said, looking at his shoes, ashamed at himself.

"You honestly don't have it?" Dominic asked, trying to sound innocent. Renton turned to Dominic and Holland.

"One of you has to have the map!"

"Renton we gave you back the map after map check yesterday," Dominic said, trying to cover himself up."You've always had the map!"

"I know, and I've always kept it in the same place, and if it isn't there, one of you must have taken it!"

"I'm not going in to your trousers to get the fucking map, Renton," Jacques said sternly. Renton, now completely exasperated, tunred to him in a rage.

"Jacques, you know me! I'm the fucking captain of the first company! I wouldn't do something that stupid! I _do_ have a sense of responsibility! I've kept the map in the same place! If it isn't there, one of you had to have taken it!"

Holland snapped his fingers, remembering the argument yesterday.

"Renton," Holland piped up, "do you remember the fight you, Jacques and I had yesterday with Dominic? I threw the map in Dominic's face and then we all left him." All eyes turned to Dominic. Dominic gulped. He had to think of something quick!

"I think I gave it back to you, Holland."

"No you didn't! You never gave me the map!"

"Yes I did!"

The two continued arguing for two minutes until Renton, tired from last night and anxious to begin the march yelled at the top of his lungs, almost screeching, "SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!" All turned their eyes in shock and surprise to Renton.

"Look boys, whatever did or didn't happen doesn't matter now! It's obvious the map is gone! The important thing now is to get out of these woods and get to Caen, we're not gonna get there any faster if we stand here and argue! Now let's just get on the road and march! We're gonna follow the road because that's the way we've been goin for two whole days. We're following the road and that's it! We're finished!" All eyes were still stuck on him, absolutely stunned by his outburst. Renton turned to the men of the first company waiting for the next command. "FIRST COMPANY! FALL IN AND PREPARE TO MOVE OUT!" The men shuffled onto the road and assumed their marching formations, demoralized slightly by the arguments of their superiors. Renton and his officers took their positions at the front of the column, while Eureka, Anemone (stunned at their argument) and the rest of the nurses stood at the end of the column. Renton pulled out his sword and called, "FORWARD, MARCH!" The men marched along slowly, the words of the argument still in their heads.

They marched for three hours until they came to a creek, and there was no bridge to cross it, so they took their time to cross it by stepping on rocks. Jacques and Holland crossed first and got their gear wet. They called to the men on the other side.

"Don't go this way! Go another way! Go down there! We just got our stuff wet!" Dominic chuckled as he stepped onto a rock. Renton sighed, exasperated with everything that had happened so far. He looked to the left and then to the right. There were crossings on either side, but they were too far away. They had to make up for lost time and cross this way.

"Dammit! If we didn't have these goddamn packs it'd be easier. Let's try this way."

"You don't wanna try this way, Renton," Holland called. Dominic laughed hard, almost falling in the stream.

"Is that Dominic laughing?" Renton asked, surprised to see him in a good mood after the argument.

"Shut the hell up and cross the stream," Jacques called.

"He's laughing! Dom, that's the first time I've heard you laugh in hours!" The company and the rest of the force crossed and stopped to rest for ten minutes. Renton's shoes were now soaked and he was very uncomfortable. Renton sat on a rock as Holland and Dominic laughed at his misfortune.

"I'm happy you find it very amusing that I'm going to be extremely uncomfortable for the rest of the day," Renton said, raising his eyebrows at the two.

"Aaaawwww!" Holland said, smiling. "REnton, dicomfort does not even..." he doubled over in laughter. Renton looked at his pocketwatch: 8:45. The ten minutes was up and Renton stood up.

"All right fellas. It's enough let's go." The two didn't listen as they kept laughing. "Can we keep going please?"

Dominic bent over laughing, and said, "No, we're gonna chill out!"

"I thought you guys wanted to get to Caen, wasn't that the plan?"

Dominic hollered to the sky laughing, "OHHHH, BOY!"

"C'mon fellas let's go." They started marching again for another three hours as Renton tried to deal with his wet shoes, and Holland and Dominic laughing their heads off. They stopped again, and Holland turned to Renton.

"Cap'n, all we're trying to do is be cool with you."

"I find it very cool that I get laughed at because my shoes are gonna be wet for the rest of the day! That's fucking hilarious!"

"Cap'n, all of our shoes are wet! We're laughing at the situation. We're hungry, we're tired. What the hell else are we supposed to do at this point?"

Dominic, still laughing, thought it might be funny if he brought up what he had really done with the map.

"Hey fellas!" Dominic said laughing. "You know what, guys? Ha! I kicked that fu...haha...I'm sorry, chief, it's messed up. It's messed up but...I kicked...I kicked that fucking map haaa! Into the creek yesterday! Haaa! It was useless! I kicked that worthless piece of shit into the creek! Hahaha!" He walked away, laughing and hollering into the sky, leaving Renton and Holland alone, stupefied and slowly filling with rage.

"I hope he's kidding," Holland said, eyes wide and paralyzed with shock.

"Dominic?" Renton called. "Are you kidding?"

"WAHOOOO! Holy Jesus!" Dominic hollered, laughing hysterically.

"I fucking hope he's kidding," Holland said.

"Dom, are you kidding?" Renton called again.

"I really fucking hope he's kidding."

"Dom, are you fucking kidding?" Renton called, the anger filling up inside him.

"I'm sorry chief. It was useless," called Dominic, still laughing. Renton and Holland, now filled with rage at Dominic's idiocy, walked to Dominic quickly and Holland shoved him hard, blind with rage.

"What in God's name is the matter with you?!" Holland yelled, pushing him.

"Get off me Holland!" Dominic protested.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING NUT!?!" Renton yelled, lost in anger and rage at Dominic's stupidity.

"I'm not out of my nut, Renton! THAT MAP WASN'T DOING SHIT FOR US!" Dominic yelled.

"To you maybe, BUT I KNEW WHAT THAT FUCKING MAP SAID!"

"SORRY!" Dominic said, trying to make amends.

"YOU'RE A GENUINE IDIOT!"

"I'm sorry!"

"You're a genuine idiot!"

"The map wasn't doing shit all day long!"

Renton pointed his finger at him and screeched, "IF WE GET HURT OR IF WE DIE OUT HERE IT'S GONNA BE YOUR FUCKING FAULT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? IT'LL BE YOUR FUCKING FAULT!"

Holland shoved Dominic against a tree and the two began grappling with each other, with Renton yelling himself hoarse at Dominic like a madman.

"I can't believe you could be such an idiot! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Holland pointed at Dominic, saying, "You've betrayed us, Dominic! You've betrayed us all!" Dominic pushed Holland's finger away with his forearm.

"The map was useless, fellas! The map was useless!" Dominic said.

"It was useless to YOU, Dominic!" Renton yelled.

"BULLSHIT!"

Holland, in blind fury, grabbed Dominic by the collar of his shirt and yelled at him, "YOUR SHEER IGNORANCE HAS PUT US ALL IN DANGER!"

A crowd was rapidly gathering, witnessing the spectacle of their commanders arguing and fighting with each other. Anemone and Stoner came running to see what was going on. The three men had calmed down with Holland sitting on the grass, Renton, with his face in his hands, sitting on a rock, and Dominic, seen by all as guilty as sin, staring into the creek, not facing them.

"What's going on?" Anemone said. "What's all the shouting about?"

"Dominic kicked the map into creek," Holland said indignantly.

"I'm sorry about the map, fellas," Dominic said. "What else do you want me to say?"

"Sorry? Please don't say sorry! That map wasn't worth a shit to you but I knew exactly where we were on that map," Renton said, trying to stay calm, shaking his head. Dominic turned to him and pointed his finger at him, jabbing it at him anger rising in him.

"Yesterday I asked you what fucking road we were on!" Stoner then entered, taking pictures, circling the angry trio. Renton and Holland turned to him, scowling.

"STONER!" the two of them yelled in unison. "DON'T YOU KNOW WHEN TO STOP!? PUT IT AWAY!" Stoner, paralyzed with shock by their outburst, quickly tucked it into his knapsack, and ran back to the road, waiting for the order to march. As the trio tried to calm themselves, Eureka arrived, and, as she had been privy to the shouting, scowled at them. Renton should do what he says all of us should do, she thought. It was never good to be a hypocrite.

"Are you all quite finished?" Anemone and Eureka called. The trio ignored them.

"Renton," Eureka called, anxious to get on the road, "we're not going to get to Caen any faster if we stand here and bicker! Give us our orders. Tell us what you need us to do. But don't be a hypocrite! Put your money where your mouth is!"

Renton looked to her and smiled wistfully. He knew she was right. He felt ashamed, that he acted like what he called against. Practice what you preach, he thought, scolding himself. That's what your father taught you. Stand up, be a man, and show all you mean what you say by doing what you say. That was the key to being an honest man, and a good commander. He had to keep his command together and save what morale was left by stepping up to the plate.

"You're right, Eureka" Renton said, standing up. "I oughtta practice what I preach. Let's get underway already." He looked to Holland and Dominic, thoroughly disappointed in themselves for arguing and wasting precious time. "We three have wasted enough time as it is. First company, form up on the road!"

The men, with confidence regained in their commander, whom they all knew was an honest man who said what he meant and did what he meant, formed a marching column along the road. Renton and Holland assumed their positions at the front of the column. Even Dominic was given enough amnesty to join Renton and Holland. Renton called the men to march and so they did.

The men marched until 3:00 in the afternoon and stopped to pitch camp, even though neither Jacques nor Renton gave an order. Both agreed however, that in order to save what morale was left, they should leave the men alone unitl tomorrow. "I've put them through enough with our nonsense today anyway," commented Renton.

They all laid about to try and regain their wits when Renton heard Dominic call for him in the distance.

"Come up here, chief! There's a lotta stuff you gotta see!"

"What kind of stuff?" Renton called in bewilderment.

"It's like...Nazi voo-doo shit!"

"What?" Renton said, coming closer, trying to make sure he heard him correctly.

"Nazi occult stuff! It's hangin' all over! Come on up here!"

"Okay! hang on!" Renton called for Eureka, Holland, and Anemone to come with him. Even Stoner came up, wanting to get it on his camera.

They ran to where Dominic was calling from and saw the most eerie sight their eyes ever beheld. All around them, crafted out of twigs and sticks, were Swastikas, hanging from tree branches everywhere they looked. There were big ones small ones, and there was one large one, big as a tree, crafted from hay and sticks and held together with twine and old string. The symbol of Nazism, the evil they were fighting against, hung about them, almost casting glares at them, great specters descending from the trees and yelling to them, "Begone!" All stopped dead in their tracks, absolutely surprised and paralyzed with fear and anxiety, dumbfounded and knowing not what to make of the strange sight.

"They're all over the place," Dominic said.

"Holy shit," Renton said stupefied. He reached out and touched one with the end of his Garand rifle. "This is fucking crazy shit!"

"What is all this?" Anemone said, drawing closer to Dominic in fear.

"I have no idea, Anemone."

Stoner took pictures and scribbled in his notepad, as the others looked around examinig them, touching them with the ends of their rifles, trying to figure out what to make of this eerie scene. All were at a loss for words. Holland cast his eyes on the tree sized Swastika, crafted from hay and twigs, dangling from a tall tree.

"Jesus Christ," Holland said, his voice shaky with fear. "That's fucking creepy."

"Dominic," Renton asked, "do you still think we're dealing with some Vichy French farmers?"

"No way!" Dominic said, his face with pure terror and fear on it. "These are no farmers! No farmer can be this creative!"

They looked around them for a long while, until finally Renton said, "Can we get outta here now?"

"Yeah, please, for the love of God?" Holland concurred. "Jesus Christ! Did you see that giant one? Okay, I want to get as far away from here by dark as humanly possible." All except Stoner started to go, who kept taking pictures and scribbling furiously in his notepad.

"Come on, Stoner! Let's go!" Renton called. "Get your shit in your pack and let's go! It's enough!" Stoner ignored them, snapping pictures rapidly.

"Stop taking pictures! Please stop taking pictures!" Dominic said, desparate to get back to camp.

"That's enough, Stoner!"

"Okay, okay, okay we're leaving right now," Stoner said. He started to move away, but still kept taking pictures. "Okay, I'm leaving. We're out of here, We're out of here. I'm leaving."

"C'mon!" Dominic called. "Put the camera away!" Stoner promptly did so and all ran back to camp, stopping short of their tents. Dominic, now stricken with fear at the spectacle he and all had seen, screamed at the top of his lungs into the air, hoping someone would hear them.

"HELP! HELP! PLEASE HELP US! SOMEONE! HELP US!"

"That's not gonna get us outta here, Lieutenant," Renton said solemnly.

Dominic, now completely lost and helpless, simply yelled into the air, trying to scream the fear out of him. "FUCK! FUCK!"

All went to their respective tents, to try and gather their wits for tomorrow. In Renton's tent, Renton, scared out of his mind and paralyzed with uncertainty, said to Eureka, "It's safe now to say at this point, that we're lost. And I haven't the slightest idea of what to do."

Nightfall came and all were preparing to turn in, but Renton, fearing the worst this night, called for a special debriefing session to take suggestions of how to avoid a possible ambush.

" Let's not light a fire tonight, Renton," Eureka suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Yeah," Dominic concurred. "'Cause last night we lit a fire and we heard noises. We didn't light a fire the first night."

"And nothing happened," Renton said nodding.

"Yeah. If we light fires, they're gonna know. I haven't heard anything follow us." Dominic turned to Holland, shining a flashlight about him, trying to see into the distance "We should even turn that light off too."

"Right," Holland said, and immediately shut off the light, leaving all in complete darkness.

"Any light is going to attract attention to us," Renton said. "Let's just get into our tents and go to sleep."

_"Fear makes the wolf seem bigger than he is."---German Proverb_

* * *

A/N: Creepy, wasn't it? Well, expect more of that. They're gonna be lost for a while. Here's a preview of what's to come next... 

_During the night, the band of friends are ambushed and routed from their camp. At dawn, they return and find a sight that frightens and bewilders many._

That's all I can give. Until next time, Read and review. Thank you, my friends. Goodnight and sleep well. ;)

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	11. Chapter 11: Ambush, breakdown: Day three

A/N: Warning: coarse language abound, and some scary moments, especially the first one. Here's a scary preview.

_During the night, the band of friends are ambushed and chased from their camp. They stay outside in the woods until dawn, and when they return, Dominic is bewildered and shaken by what he finds. Dominic slowly starts to lose it._

* * *

_"Nothing is to be feared but fear." ---Sir Francis Bacon_

**Chapter Eleven: Ambush and Breakdown (Day three)**

**June 19th, 1944**

**3:00 am, Somewhere in the woods between Carentan and Caen**

Renton and Eureka were sleeping peacefully when Renton was awakened. He looked around his tent, seeing nothing but darkness, hearing nothing but the hoot of an owl and the crickets chirping. He turned a flashlight on, despite Eureka's suggestion not to turn on any lights, and looked about him. The tent was closed off to the outside, leaving them shrouded in a canvas cover. He heard something, something that made his eyes widen with fear. Voices. Strange eerie voices coming from outside the tent. He pricked up his ears and listened, more closely.

"Ich denke, daß die meisten ihnen noch schlafender Herr Leutnant sind.(A/N: For those who don't speak German, translation: I think most of them are still asleep, lieutenant.)" Renton gasped. Germans! He knew it! They were about to launch an ambush! They must move quickly and wake everyone up!

Renton shook Eureka and woke her, whispering, "Eureka, get up! The Germans are here! They're about to launch an ambush! We have to move, now!"

Eureka, realizing the danger of the situation, quickly got dressed as did Renton, and they were both trying to lace their shoes when they heard a loud rustling. The voices growing louder, until suddenly the tent began to shake and rattle. The Germans had begun their attack. Eureka screamed, and Renton shushed her, telling her to keep quiet as he ran for his gun and Thompson submachine gun. The tent shook more violently, until finally the ropes came undone and Renton lifted the tent to run, grabbing Eureka's hand.

"GO, EUREKA! GO! FUCKING GO, NOW!" Eureka ran, followed by Renton. Renton heard footsteps coming from behind him and turned to see Dominic, clutching his BAR, face contorted with terror, Holland with no overcoat on, Stoner, his camera dangling from his neck, and Anemone, dressed in her nightgown, along with five of the men of his company running in his direction; they had been attacked too.

"GO! GO! GO!" Renton called to them, running. Dominic and the others ran past him, as he hopped along trying to lace his shoes. He could hear Dominic and Holland yelling in the distance.

"GOD! GOD! FUCKING GOD! SHIT!" Dominic yelled in fear.

"GO, GO, GO! DON'T LOOK BACK! DON'T LOOK BACK, MEN! JUST GO!" Holland shouted, trying to rally his frightened men. "RENTON! HURRY UP!"

"I'm comin', boys!" Renton yelled, ignoring his halfway tied shoes. "My shoes aren't laced!" Renton looked to his left and saw a large figure, concealed by the moonless night, coming straight for him. Renton stopped, pointed at the oncoming figure, shaking with fear.

"OH, SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?!" Renton ran to where he heard the others' voices, ignoring his half-tied shoes, and ran like the devil, not stopping to turn and fire, with his mind, completely lost in his fear, only focused on escape. He soon came in to a little clearing where Dominic, Holland, Eureka, Anemone, Stoner, and the five men were all sitting or kneeling.

"Everyone get down!" Renton ordered. "Down! Down! Hug the ground! Everyone down!" They promptly followed his edict and lay down on the ground. Renton then heard something. Footsteps. Rapidly approaching this position. Renton called for someone to light a flare, and Holland took out a signal gun, and fired a flare into the night sky. The flare burst, castig a red glow on the dark scene. Renton saw them come on.

Germans. Ten of them, and coming fast! Renton looked to his men and saw Dominic staring at the Germans, paralyzed with terror.

"Oh, fuck! It's the Germans! They're coming at us!" Dominic cried. Renton knew they had to beat them back if they were to survive, so he gave the order.

"Suppressing fire!" In a second, all the men were firing at the advancing squad of Germans, lighting up the darkness with the muzzle blasts from their rifles and the phosphorus tracer bullets zipping through the night, hitting the dark advancing Germans as the flare began to burn out. Within seconds the ten Germans were killed and the place was dark and silent again. Holland and Renton still had their flashlights on, trying to see about them. Dominic was fearful the Germans might come again.

"Turn the lights off!" Dominic whispered. "Turn the lights off! Turn that light off! Holland, turn it off!" Holland did so, and Renton looked back to the camp, shining the light there, with a look of pure terror and fright on his face. Renton, however, quickly shut off his light as well, leaving the frightened band of friends in complete darkness. Renton heard the others shivering, panting and mumbling to themselves, absolutely panic-stricken.

"Jesus Christ!" Dominic whispered to himself, now completely teriffied. "What the fuck is going on?! What the fuck is going on!?"

"Did any of you hear Yvette screaming?" Renton head Anemone's voice ask. Dominic shushed her, trying to gather what sanity he left, as he was more and more starting to lose it.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" Dominic's voice said, trembling. "They didn't take Yvette, man."

"Yes they did."

"They didn't take Yvette, man." They all quieted down, now simply shivering and trembling with fear, huddled in a little cluster together.

"Renton?" Eureka's voice asked, slightly trembling.

"What is it, Eureka?" Renton said, starting to lose it.

"I haven't heard anything since we ran away. Should we go back, Renton?"

"No. That's a bad idea. If we try to go back, they're gonna know. The best thing we can do now is just wait them out. They have to come back this way, anyway, so we'll get 'em as they come."

"I'm scared, Renton."

"All of us are, Eureka."

"Renton..." Eureka, concealed by the darkness, drew closer to Renton, sitting against a tree. "hold me. Hold me, the way you did back in the treehouse that day. Back when there seemed to be nothing. Nothing but us and our love. No killing, no tyranny, no war." Renton wrapped his arms around her and the two rocked back and forth, trying to keep what sanity they had left.

They didn't sleep that night, as all were completely scared out of their mind and fearful of a German attack in their direction. They met no Germans throughout the night, as the attackers sneaked around them and headed back from whence they came.

»»»»»

**5:30 am**

Dawn came, and the men were wide awake. No one could sleep peacefully after that, Renton thought. Renton rose, dragging Eureka up with him and stared back to the camp. A mist hung over it, a curtain as one often saw in a graveyard. They could see the tops of their tents sticking out over the mist, and there in the center of the line of tents, was Renton's and Eureka's, mangled and fallen apart, a remnant of the attack, a specter, beguiling them, teasing them to come back. Others were shaken too, and twisted, a sign of a sturggle to break free of the tent. Renton turned to the men, crouching in the ground, cltuching their rifles, shaking with sheer terror. They all looked to him with the faces of helpless children, begging their commander to lead them out of the woods.

"I don't hear anything anymore, boys. We should head back." The men looked to each other, slightly dazed and weary from the sleepless night.

"How long have we been here, chief?" Dominic said, turning to him with dark circles around his eyes. His face was stricken with the look of pure terror. Renton looked at his pocketwatch. The attack began at 3:00 that night, and it was now 5:30.

"Two and a half hours, I think." Renton shoved the pocketwatch into his trench coat pocket and looked about him. The dawning sun was beginning to shine through the trees, casting a dull orange light in the sky. "The sun's up, fellas. We're okay now. They don't like to move around in the mist, so we have that on our side. Let's get going." All rose, slung their weapons over their shoulders and started back for the camp. Dominic, now panic-stricken and beginning to losing it, came next to Renton.

"When we get back, let's just pack up our shit and go. Let's get out," Dominic said, shaking with fear.

"All right. No worries, Dom. We'll get outta here. I promise."

They arrived back on the camp, and found that, surprisingly, nothing had been taken, but everything had been thrown about. The camp seemed dissheveled. Clothes and knick-knacks had been thrown about, a knapsack's contents dumped, and a water canteen thrown on the ground. Dominic looked about him and threw his cap on the ground, tired and completely helpless.

"What the fuck, man?" Dominic said to no one in particular, exasperated and tired.

"Where's my pack?" Renton asked.

"You're pack's back over there," Holland said, pointing to the tent, where Renton's and Eureka's packs were.

"What the fuck, man?" Dominic said, walking among the camp, trying to regather his things, since those were the ones thrown around. "Why are we getting screwed with like this?" he said, helpless. He came to the canteen,_ his_ canteen, on the ground. He picked it up, placed it to his ear, and shook it. Heard no sloshing sound. He tried to pour out any water that might be left, but there was nothing. Not a drop. Bone dry.

"Those krauts spilled all my fuckin' water!" He looked to what seemed to be a wet patch of leaves at his feet. Anemone came to him.

"It looks like slime, Dominic." Dominic bent down.

"No, it's just water, Anemone." He felt the wet patch of leaves. It felt sticky and slimy. "Oh, it _is_ slime. What the fuck _is_ that?"

Stoner, alongside the men who ran away that night, took snapshots anfd circled around the mangled disfigured tents as all were preparing to leave.

"Come on, let's get the shit packed up and let's get out of here," Holland yelled to his men as they began packing up their stricken tents. Dominic turned to Stoner, deeply agitated and scared beyond belief.

"C'mon Stoner! Put that thing away and let's go! I'm not...I'm not interested in anything anymore! So put it away." Jacques then arrived on the scene, trying to rally his shattered force. Both companies had been hit during the attack.

"Hang on a second, boys!" Jacques called, trying to bring his scattered command together. "Is everything packed? Have we got everything?"

"Like I give a shit!" Dominic said, jittery, still picking up his scattered clothes.

"Who's shit was thrown around here?"

"Mine! My shit!"

"Why you?"

"Let's go, Jacques!" Renton called, seeing most were ready to leave. "Let's go! Let's go! Are you not scared enough?"

"I am scared enough, Renton and I do want to go, but it's light now. We have a couple of minutes."

"No we don't! We need to get going!"

"Let's just see what happened here, okay? Let's just see what happened here!"

Dominic, now packing his clothes into his knapsack, turned to Stoner, who was still taking snapshots. Dominic turned to him in anger, completely frightened from last night and all that had happened.

"Stoner, put the camera away. This isn't funny anymore."

"Do I look like I'm laughing, Dominic?" Stoner said solemnly. Renton called for Stoner to put away his camera, in sympathy for Dominic.

"No but you're goin' 'round doin' fuckin' report thing, man! You're still doing you're fuckin' thing." Stoner clikced another picture of a tent. Dominic, in blind fury, grabbed Stoner, trying to get the camera out of his hands. A tussle soon ensued, and Stoner bit Dominic's hand.

"Don't fucking...!" Stoner yelled, holding on to his camera.

"Put the goddamn thing away! If you bite me one more time, I will throw you to the fucking krauts!" Dominic pushed him and got back to packing.

"If you touch my fucking camera, I'll bite all your fingers off!" Dominic turned to him and cast and icy glare.

"PUT THAT THING AWAY!"

"SHUT IT!" Renton yelled. "Both of you! We ain't gettin' to Caen any faster, so let's hurry up and move."

"But Renton, I..." Stoner started to say. Renton turned to him and scowled.

"I SAID SHUT IT, STONER! If I see that camera one more time during our time in the woods, I'm gonna take it and THROW IT INTO THE FUCKING CREEK! NOW PUT IT AWAY!" Stoner quickly tucked it into his camera into his knapsack and ran for the road.

"I didn't mean it, Dominic," Stoner called. "I want to get to Caen like everyone else but it's important that I get what I can."

The company then moved out and they reached a crossing of the creek. The only crossing was a log. Jacques, Holland and Renton crossed first.

"What the fuck?" Dominic said, tired. "Is this possible? Goddammit, this stream has so many bends in it! here goes." He hesitantly got on the log and started to cross, trying hard not to slip. "Goddammit, I fucking hate crossing streams on logs! If I never use another log to cross a stream again, I shall die a happy married man!" He got across the stream and the rest of the force came over to the other side, single file slowing up the advance. They continued marching for five fours and came to a clearing in the woods to stop and rest for ten minutes. Holland examined Stoner's camera, looking through it.

"I think I know why you love this camera so much."

"You do?" Stoner asked.

"Yes. It's not quite reality. It's more like filtered reality. It's like you can pretend everything is not quite the way it is."

"Reality says we gotta move, fellas," Renton called. They assumed their positions on the road and waited for the order to march. Dominic, shocked and at the end of his rope, lay down with his head against a tree, staring up into the mid-afternoon sky, crying softly. The time to rest quickly passed. Renton called to Dominic to take his position in line. Dominic did not answer. Eureka came to Renton and tried to tell him to leave him alone.

"We need to go, Eureka. Now."

"Just give him five minutes, Renton," she said quietly, a solemn lost look on her face. "Just leave him alone. Five minutes. C'mon, Renton. He's lost it."

"I know Eureka, but we are _all_ on the brink of losing it."

"I know we are. Listen, Renton. We all have to take care of each other, and we're not going to take care of him when we get in his face when he's crying."

"I know that."

"I know you know, and I know we're both about to lose it but let's try to keep together the last wits we have."

"We have to go, Eureka. It is hard for all us to hold it together, but we need to get out of here in one piece and this is not helping!"

"I know, Renton. Just let him have his...his..."

"Does anyone have any bread, or something to eat?" Dominic called.

"No Dominic," Renton answered.

"There's no more bread?"

"We're out." A slight pause. Dominic had completely lost it, as Eureka said.

Dominic called again, his voice cracking, "What-what the fuck...Why the fuck did the krauts put this grey jelly shit all over my shit?"

"Let's go, Dominic. Let's go. If we keep following the road, we will get out. Let's go...please."

Dominic sighed, completely lost and helpless, picked up his pack and joined the company marching down the road, deeper into the woods, which seemed to go on forever. They continued to march until 6:00 when the force pitched camp for the night. All had been hit during the ambush, but Dominic was the only one in the first company to be marked like that by the Germans. Dominic sat in front of his tent, completely at a loss and demoralized. All sat on logs staring into the woods to try and meet any Germans who came their way, all the while trying to comfort Dominic.

"I don't know if I want to sleep another night in these woods," Dominic said in a low voice, downhearted.

"Dominic, none of us do," Anemone said solemnly.

"I know."

"Whoever they are, they're gonna to come back. We know that for a fact," Holland said to Renton.

"We don't know that for a fact," Renton replied.

"Well they came three nights in a row. It's been getting worse every night," said Dominic, beginnning to break down.

"I would love to hear this right now, Dominic, I really would but..."

"I'm just trying to say, you know...we have to rationally say, they might very well go on forever compared to our marching."

"Not possible. Not possible with the current situation.

"Why is not possible?" Eureka asked in bewilderment.

"Because we're Americans, and it's not possible! They know that _we_ know that they're here, and they're not gonna attack us if we know they're here. We'll be waiting for them next time and they know that." Just then, Dominic got up, walked to the edge of the woods and, morale brokena and at the end of his rope, began to sing towards the sky, in response to Renton's comment.

"America, America. GOD SHED YOUR GRACE ON THEE!"

"Calm down, Lieutenant. Calm down."

"Yeah, calm down, hun. Come back and sit with me," Anemone called sweetly to her fiance. Dominic ignored her. He turned to the sky and yelled his frustration into the air.

"Fuck! Fuck! We're still in the middle of these goddamn woods! It's been three fucking days already! When is all this bullshit gonna end?!"

"It'll be over soon, Dominic. It'll be over before you you know it. Now come back. We're going to bed."

"GODDAMMIT! SONUVABITCH!" Dominic walked back to the others and all parted to their separate tents. Inside Dominic and Anemone's tent, while Holland was alseep, Dominic lamented his frustration.

"Wherever we go, the woods all look the same! It's like sleeping pretty much where we were sleeping the night before. That's just fucked up." He looked to his fiancee, face small with worry and concern for Dominic, who seemed more and more like he was on the verge of losing his mind.

"The woods can't go on forever, Dominic. We'll get out sooner or later."

"I'm sorry I yelled out there by the way. Okay, sweetie?" Anemone smiled slightly.

"Okay, hun. We'll be outta here soon. Just go to sleep and try to save your strength."

"Anything you say, sweetheart." He kissed her and climbed into his cot, to try and sleep as best he could, as outside, unbeknownst to the sleeping crew, a large crowd of figures ion extended line formation trudged through the woods towards their camp.

_"Dangers bring fears, and fears more dangers bring."---Richard Baxter_

* * *

A/N: That chase scene scare you? It should have. (evil smile) MWAHAHHAHA! (changes to regular smile) Just kidding. Here's a scary preview of what's to come next. 

_The next morning, morale sinks to its lowest point to find that Dominic, the man the Germans marked, has gone missing...  
_

What's happened to him? You'll have to wait till next time. hee hee hee. Until next time, read and review. Goodnight...and sleep well.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever!


	12. Chapter 12: Missing: Day four

A/N: Warning: some coarse language, cause at this point, everyone's f#$&ing lost it. Here's a preview...

_The camp awakens to find that Dominic has gone missing. With morale among the men at its lowest point, they have a difficult decision to make: should they stay and try to look for Dominic, or should they forget about him and head to Caen?_

* * *

_"Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death." ---Betty Bender_

**Chapter Twelve: Missing (Day four)**

**June 20th, 1944**

**7:00 am, Somewhere in the woods between Carentan and Caen**

Renton awoke early that morning and walked outside his tent. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, coming through the curtain of trees, casting a misty orange glow in the air. No attack came last night, so nothing had been taken. Dominic must feel better now, he thought. He walked outside, sifting through the early morning mist, to call on his officers to form the men up. They had to move the men out before the Germans came again. They were sure to launch an attack this night. They must move quickly. He moved to Dominic's tent to wake him first. He looked inside the tent, but only saw two figures, beginning to wake: Anemone and Holland. Dominic's cot was empty. He was gone. He looked outside, into the woods. Perhaps he woke early to take a walk, clear his mind.

"Dominic?" He called. No answer. I hope to God he hasn't been captured, he thought. He turned to the tent. The others were now awake and looking at him in bewilderment, wondering where Dominic is.

"Fuck, boys!" Renton said in frustration. "We never go beyond earshot distance!" He turned to the woods again, not seeing a living soul out there. Now he was getting worried. "Dominic?"

"Calm down, Renton," Holland said.

"How can I calm...DOMINIC! DOMINIC!"

"Maybe he's at the creek," Anemone suggested.

"How the fuck...if he was at the fucking creek, he could hear me from here!"

"Dominic?" Anemone called. "Can you hear me, sweetheart?"

"DOMINIC!" Renton screeched. Anemone shushed him.

"You gotta wait for a response. He'll come back." Renton waited for a couple minutes. Nothing. Not a sound. Not one peep. Then he remembered. Dominic told them about how the Germans put grey jelly on his pack. That must be a clue as to what happened.

" Fellas, do you remember what he said yesterday? About...about that jelly shit on his pack? About how...DOMINIC!" Aneomne broke down. Dominic was gone. Missing! What could have happened to him? She sat down on a log, rocking back and forth, trying to keep her wits which were slipping away, minute by minute.

Anemone said, starting to lose it, "We didn't even...we didn't even get waken up last night. Nothing even came to the tent last night. Last night was a good night. There's...there's no way! He, he just, he just, he's just gone for a walk somewhere." Renton darted his vision around the camp, thinking maybe he was walking through the camp and not listening on purpose.

"DOMINIC, I SWEAR TO GOD, IF THIS ONE OF YOUR JOKES, I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!" Eureka then came outside, privy to the shouting.

"What's going on? What's happened?" Eureka asked hastily.

"Dominic's gone missing."

"We don't know that!" Anemone shouted, completely lost and helpless. "He's prob'ly gone for a walk."

"We don't know that either! He wouldn't have gone without telling us! And he would have told us where he was going!"

"Let's look for him, then!" Eureka said, agreeing with Renton. Renton, demoralized, scared by all he had seen and completely lost, nearly broke down and paced along the edge of the camp.

"We can't even get outta these goddamn woods! How the fuck are we gonna find Dominic!?" Eureka placed her hands on his shoulders and stopped him, trying to calm him down.

"Calm down, calm down, calm down. Just relax, Renton. Relax, he's just...he's around. He just went out of ear shot. I dunno. He just went out of earshot. That's all. All right? We'll relax, pack up and when he's back we'll be ready to go. All right?"

"Fine. Fine. Get going. Start packing. I'm losin' my mind, Eureka. I swear to God. I'm losin' my mind." Just then, Jacques, Yvette, Henri, and Renton's other platoon commanders arrived. They had heard the shouting as well.

"What's happened?" Jacques asked.

"Dominic has gone missing, Jacques," Renton said. "We don't know if he's been captured by the Germans, if he's gone for a walk or...we don't know where he is."

"Sir," Holland piped up, "I strongly feel we should stay here and send patrol reconaissances to try to find Dominic."

"It's no good, Lieutenant Novakov," Jacques said solemnly. "He's gone. Probably dead." Anemone hid her face in her hands and shook her head, sobbing, trembling, horrified at the image of Dominic, jet black hair smoothed out over his face, grey eyes fixed on the sky, staring the stare only given by the dead.

"Well I'm not leaving without him!" Renton protested. "He and I have been through a lot together. We all got into this together and we're all gonna get out of it together."

"Hear hear!" Holland called, in support of his chief.

"Hear hear," Anemone said, still trmelbing at the thought of Dominic dead. Just then, Alain, Jean-Paul, Hector and Gerard stood beside their commander.

"Where you go, Renton, there we will go also," Jean-Paul said.

"Besides," Alain said, "Dominic is one of the best men we have here, and we won't go without him."

"Call your company here," Jacques said sternly. "Let's see what your men think about this." Renton turned to the men of his company, now completely packed and waiting for the command to march.

"First company! Fall in! We got an important situation on our hands!" The whole company fell in, with all platoon commanders with them, fomring a line-of-battle like war in days of old, when men would line up on open fields and fire at each other until one would give way. All looked to Renton, with patient eyes and patient ears to hear what the important situation was.

Renton came up with an idea of how to decide this issue. He drew his sword, and, with the tip of the blade in the ground, drew a line in the ground in front of the men, running the length of the battle line. He then went back to the center of the line and looked to his men. All stood in line, looking at him with patience and intent. Holland, sternly looking at his commander, strongly believing they should stay. Anemone, sobbing, looking to Renton with a small ray of hope that maybe he could find her fiance and bring him back. Paul, holding the French _tricolour_ close to him, unwilling to let go, as if it was his lover. Eureka, the love of his life, wearing a blue and white dress and looking to her fiance with a certainty in her eyes, knowing that he would do what was right. He then turned to his other platoon commanders: Alain, Jean-Paul, Hector, Gerard. They would not waver. They would not leave Dominic for dead, and they would not leave their commander alone in this effort. He then turned to the men and spoke with grave seriousness.

"Boys! You've stuck with me in some tough situations. And now we have a critical situation on our hands! Lieutenant Dominic Sorel...is missing. We don't where he's gone, if he's been captured by the Germans, if he's dead, or what. Now, I don't know about you, boys, but I'm not leaving without him. He and I have been through a lot together, and I'm not leaving him for dead. When he wanted to come with me here, he told me, 'I go where you go, eat what you eat, fight where you fight. We're friends and friends stick together. I'll make sure you come home safe.' Well, boys, I intend to reutrn the favor and bring him home safe! Now I know that many of you want to get outta these woods and get to Caen. Believe me boys, I want to get out of here as much as any one of you, but I won't leave without him. Do you see this line here, boys?" He pointed to the line he drew in the ground. "I'm giving you the choice. Any one of you boys who wishes to stay with me and look for Dominic cross this line. Those of you who want to forget about looking for him and head for Caen, stay on your side of the line. I will think no less of any man who chooses to leave. Make your choice, boys."

He waited for a response. The men contemplated their choices as Renton said a silent prayer. Lord, help them make the choice. Give me a chance. Give me a chance and I shall find him. Then Paul, holding the banner close to him, stepped forward.

"Where you go, Renton, so shall I," Paul said sternly. Renton nodded. Paul was dependable, and not one to turn and run.

Anemone, stricken with fear at the diappearance of her fiance, stepped forward and chose to stay until her Dominic was found. Eureka followed, not because she wanted to follow Renton's edict, not because she loved him (although that would have been enough to stay), but because she believed it was the right thing to do. Holland stepped forward, followed quickly by his platoon, 25 men strong. Holland would stand by and search, even if it took years. Dominic's platoon, of course willing to risk life and limb to find their lost leader, stepped forward and stood firm. Jacques' eyes widened as more and more men crossed the line and chose to stay. They would never leave one of their comrades behind. It wasn't the soldierly way. It was dishonorable, shameful, to leave a comrade without looking for him. No one is to be left behind! All would come out of the woods, no matter what it took! Some stepped forward because they were ashamed not to. Many stepped forward...because it was the right thing to do. Stoner stepped forward, not wanting to leave his new-found friend behind. Jean-Baptiste Turat, the boy who swallowed his fear of battle that day on Hill 30, stepped forward, solid with determination, not wanting to leave his captain hanging. There was not one left behind the line. The whole company had chosen to stay. Jacques, realizing that half of his whole force along with his best commander had chosen to stay and search, gave in. It would be unmanly, cowardly, and shameful to leave one of their comrades lost.

"Well, Renton," He consented, "you win. We will stay until Dominic is found. No matter how long it takes." Renton smiled and the company cheered, knowing in their hearts that they were doing the right thing.

Patrol reconassainces were sent and resent, trying desparately to find any clue that might help them in their search or lead them to Dominic. It was discovered by a reconassaince that his pack was left behind, and Renton assessed that Dominic could not have tried to get to Caen by himself or desert and try to go home without leaving all of his belongings. They found no trace of his body, and no signs that he had been killed. He would not have been killed with no trace left behind, so they knew he wasn't dead, to Anemone's relief. Only one possibility was left: capture. The Germans must have come during the night and taken him. Besides all that, however, there was no trace of Dominic. They searched until dusk, when Renton called off the search for tomorrow. He feared another German attack and ordered his company to dig defensive positions on the edge of the clearing they were camped in, so they could meet any German ambush.

»»»»»

**10:30 pm**

Nightfall came, and none could sleep, as they all stood awake in their dug trenches to wait for a German attack. Renton and the others stared into the dark woods, not seeing anything. Then they heard a noise to their front.

"HELP! HELP! AAAAHHHH! SOMEBODY HELP!" Someone was crying for help, and in terrible pain. And the voice sounded familiar...

Dominic.

"Dominic?" Renton called. No response. He turned to the others in the trenches. Eureka and Anemone were on his right and Holland and Stoner on his left. "Should we call to him? Is it a trick?" None answered. The voice then yelled out, shouting cries of pain and fear in the distance.

"OH GOD! SOMEONE HELP! RENTON! ANEMONE! HOLLAND! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!" Anemone stood up, and looked into the darkness. No doubt about it. It was Dominic.

"Dominic?" she called. Holland tried to look into the dark woods, trying to make out a figure of Dominic, or anyone, seeing nothing.

"Dominic?" Holland called. Silence. "Dominic?" Silence again. It seemed as if the voice was blocking out the responses and instead yelling and screaming.

"Where's it coming from?" Renton asked. The voice, as if in response to Renton's question, moaned and groaned in pain. "DOMINIC! Dom, where are you? Tell us where you are!" The voice grew louder now, seemingly coming closer, yelling and screaming, moaning in pain, as if someone was being tortured. Renton and Eureka, realizing it was Dominic, covered their mouths in fear, saying muffled through their hands in terror and fright, "Oh my God! No!" They embraced each other, trying to keep themselves from going insane by the sounds of Dominic in pain. Holland turned to them, with a worried and frightened look on his face.

"I don't know if it's him or if it's the krauts fucking with us!" Holland turned back to the front and shone a flashlight into the darkness, still finding nothing. All the men in the trenches stood up over the top, looked to the front and listened to the haunting sound. Renton shone his flashlight, trying to find Dominic, but saw nothing, only hearing his voice, growing louder and more agonizing.

"Dominic? Is it coming from over here?" Renton darted the flashlight to his right. "Tell me where you are, Dom!"

"No!" Holland said. "Over here!" He pointed the flashlight back to his front. "DOMINIIIIIIICCCCC!"

"C'mon, boys! Let's look for him!" Renton called. No one rose from their trenches and stepped out. They were scared out of their wits.

"I don't even know where to look!" Anemone cried. She slid down onto the floor of the trench and huddled herself into a little ball, breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably, her wits completely gone and near the brink of a breakdown.

"I don't know if it's really him!" Holland said, now completely lost it. "I don't know if it's really him!" Renton and Eureka, at the ends of their ropes, broke down, and embraced each other, crying uncontrollably, near the edge of their sanity.

"Tell us where you are, Dominic! DOMINIC! ANSWER ME! DOOOOOOMMMMMMM!" Holland sank to the floor, with the sound gone, and now completely scared mindless. He hid his head inbetween his knees, his hands clutching his rifle, completely helpless and lost. Renton and Eureka, embracing each other, frightened out of their minds totally, slid onto the ground, crying softly.

"Renton, don't fall asleep."

"I can't fall asleep. No one can. Whatever that was, it knows that Dominic's gone."

"Renton, do you think that it's like what Dominic said? That it's just some Vichy French farmers?" Renton shook his head.

"No. Do you think Vichy farmers would be creative enough to hang swastikas on trees?"

"I guess not. Do you think it's the Germans?"

"Well we're supposed to be behind enemy lines, but I don't know. I don't even give a shit anymore, to be honest. All I want is to find Dominic and get outta here." Eureka looked up into his face and pulled herself closer to him.

"Renton..."

"Yes, Eureka?"

"Please kiss me." Renton did so, softly pressing his lips against hers, as Eureka touched his cheek softly, butterfly touches on his face. then Eureka wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him in and making the kiss sweeter. Renton, concentrated on what tomorrow had to bring, tried to pull away, slightly abashed at trying to take part in something Anemone couldn't without her Dominic.

"Renton, what's wrong?"

"Eureka, now isn't quite the time for this. When we get outta here, okay?"

"Okay, Renton," Eureka said, slightly downhearted.

"Hey. I love you, okay? I just want to get outta here."

"I want to leave too, Renton."

"It'll be over soon. I promise. We will get outta here. We just need to get Dominic first."

"Okay, Renton. I love you."

"I love you too."

The two fell asleep, trying to keep what wits they had left, unknowing of what tomorrow might bring.

_"Don't be afraid to go out on a limb. That's where the fruit is."--- H. Jackson Browne_

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A/N: Did Dominic's screaming freak you out? It sure scared me, and I _wrote_ it! Here's a preview of the next one... 

_One night, with Dominic's cries in the men's ears, fed up with all that has happened and itching to retrieve Dominic and get out, Renton orders the men to advance to "where the screaming is loudest". What lies in wait for them in the woods?_

That's all for next time. Hee hee hee hee. Until next time, goodnight and sleep well.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	13. Chapter 13: Search and Rescue: Day five

A/N: Warning: some scary moments. This is the critical point where action is taken. Here's a preview.

_Throughout the day on June 21st, the patrols come back and give more reports on what they've found, leading to a worsening of the possibility of what is happeneing to Dominic. That night, with Dominic's screams of pain and possible torture in their ears, Renton decides they can't stay in the trenches; they need to retireve him and get out. _

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_"There are two levers for moving men: interest and fear." ---Napoleon Bonaparte_

**Chapter Thirteen: Search and Recue (Day five)**

**June 21st, 1944**

**10:30 pm, Somewhere in the woods between Carentan and Caen**

The patrols were sent and resent all day that day. They discovered his overcoat, flat cap, shirt, boots and socks out in the woods. Why were articles of his clothing left behind? No one could tell. No movement was made in any direction; the force would not be moved until Dominic was found. "No man gets left behind," as the old military motto goes. Henri and Yvette, who before had been against this effort, consented to stay, realizing, as Henri said, "It would be unmilitary to leave one of our comrades behind." Yvette concurred saying, "We would be shunned by all if we returned home without him. All will spit in mention of our names." Jacques consented and called for Henri's force to help in Renton's search. Renton was given total command of all operations until Dominic was found.

That night, Renton's company was reinforced by Henri who had camped on the opposite side of the clearing. The whole force, 300 men, was now camped on Renton's side of the clearing, dug in their trenches. The men stood over the tops of the trenches, looking to their front, waiting, wondering for what might come next. Then Dominic's cries began.

"Somebody! Help me, please! Help me for the love of God!" Renton and the others looked out to the front, listening to the cries, as Renton contemplated his options.

Well, we know it's him, he thought. He called out our names last night. The Germans couldn't be calling them. The Germans couldn't possibly know their names. It had to be him. But what should they do? Should they go out and try to find him? They couldn't leave him there. It would damage morale if the men stayed in their trenches and not help thier comrade. But what if it was a trap? What if the Germans were making him yell? The Germans might have set up a trap for them. They might risk taking casualties. But still, they couldn't leave him there. They had to choose: stay in the trenches and play it safe, or take a chance and go out to look for him. Renton called Henri and the remaining platoon commanders together to assess what they should do.

"We should go!" Holland said without an ounce of hesitation in his voice. "Dominic is obviously in danger. We can't leave him."

"We must stay in our trenches," Henri protested. "It might be a trap. We shouldn't risk taking casualties." Alain, Jean-Paul, Hector and Gerard all pushed to leave and search.

"It will be criminal folly," Alain charged Henri, who was always overly cautious, "to order the men to stay in the trenches when it's so obvious Dominic needs us! And in any case, Dominic is one of the best men we have. Our force is lost without him."

Holland concurred with Alain and said, "Besides, the men will never forgive us if we don't at least try and look for him." Renton agreed with Holland and the rest of his commanders.

Renton turned to Henri and told him, "Get your commanders together and tell them to get ready to move out. When we move out, tell your men to head for where the screaming is loudest."

"Yes, Captain Thurston." Henri went back to his sector of the line and prepared his men to move out. Renton, however, had a few more orders to give. He looked to Holland and the rest of his commanders, solid and unwavering, ready to advance.

"Fix bayonets," Renton whispered. The sound of bayonets clicking against the ends of rifles filled his ears as Holland and the others repeated the order. "Go on the flare."

Holland gave Renton his flare gun, and said, "Whenever you're ready, Renton." Renton nodded and turned to his right, where Henri and his men, with bayonets fixed, waited for the signal. He turned to the front, staring into the darkness. Hang on, Dominic, Renton thought to himself. Don't give up. We're coming. Just hang on. Renton raised the gun, his hand shaking towards the sky, still listening to Dominic's cries.

"SOMEONE! I NEED HELP! PLEASE HELP! RENTON! HOLLAND! ANEMONE! SOMEBODY! PLEASE HELP!"

With that, Renton fired the gun and a flare burst, casting a red glow on the dark scene. Renton went out first, followed Holland and his platoon. The rest of the company quickly followed, climbing from out of the trenches and out into the dark wilderness.

"Hey! Wait for us!" Renton and Holland turned to see Eureka and Anemone, down in the trenches, looking up to them, wanting to come with them.

"Eureka, I need you to stay in the trenches," Renton called. "There's gonna be a lot of fighting. You too, Anemone."

"But we..." Eureka and Anemone tried to say.

"Stay in the trench!" Holland ordered. "You'll be safe there!" Eureka and Anemone backed down, believing it best to follow theri orders.

Renton and Holland shined their flashlights out into the darkness, searching for any sign of where the yelling was coming from, and also using them as beacons to signify to Henri where they were heading. They marched forward, looking neither left nor right, adjusting their direction only to keep heading for where the yelling was. All the while the screaming and yelling seemed to be coming closer, and closer, and closer. Then, out of nowhere, Holland's flashlight revealed an eerie landmark: an old, run-down house, two stories high, all the windows broken and shattered, doors ripped off the hinges, and in a state of decay. It loomed over them, sending chills up the backs of all the men, as it seemed to stare back at them, yelling to all, "Leave this place!"

"Holy shit," Holland said, "It's a house." Renton called for him and for the men to halt. Alain and Jean-Paul shined their lights over to the left and saw what looked to be tents. This was the German camp, no doubt about it. Renton called Henri and all his commanders together and all came running, all the while listening to Dominic's screams.

"All right boys, listen. We're right on top of the German camp. Now Holland, Alain, Jean-Paul, I want you to form a perimeter around that house..." Renton pointed to the decrepid farmhouse Holland spotted, "while Hector and Gerard and Dominic's force surround the camp to the left. Henri, I want you to scout the area to the right of the house and see if you can't find any more tents. If you find tents, surround them and form a blocking position. If you find nothing, take your men and join Hector and Gerard to help them out surrounding the camp there. Understand? Does everyone understand?"

"Yessir," all replied quietly.

"Very well, then. I want all platoon commanders to report back when they've completed their tasks." All rushed away, leaving Renton alone in the darkness, shining his flashlight at the run-down house. He listened to the screams of Dominic, as they seemed to come from inside the house.

"HELP! SOMEONE! I NEED HELP PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" All the commanders reported back, their tasks completed, and saluted him in the darkness.

"Sir," Henri said, "I've found no tents on the other side. I've placed my men in a blocking position on the southern edge of the camp."

"Good."

"Renton," Holland said, "Is it me, or do the cries seem to be coming from inside the house?"

"It's not you, Holland. Dominic is definitely in there. He needs our help. Now boys, there's only one way for us to help him. We're gonna have to storm the house, find Dominic and get him out of there as fast as possible. I want all my platoon commanders to help me in this. Henri, I want you to stay behind. If anything should happen to us, you and your platoon commanders are to come in and get us out of there. After that, we should blow the house and head back for the trenches. If anything goes wrong, it'll all depend on you."

"I'll be ready," Henri said, solid with determination and resolve.

"Very well then. Go back to your post. The rest, with me." Henri ran to his men as Holland and the platoon leaders cocked and loaded their weapons. They approached the front of the house, shining their flashlights at the house, listeneing to Dominic calling out.

"HELP ME PLEASE! FOLLOW MY VOICE! HELP!" Renton led the men in, eyeing the house. All examined the house. The house was in an extreme state of decay, plaster was crumbling, all the windows and doors knocked out. There were drawings of swastikas on the walls, symbols of the SS, graffiti of Nazism, the evil that had to be destroyed, some saying, "SIEG HEIL" or "HEIL HITLER" others saying, "Kämpfen Sie für das fuhrer zum letzten Mann." (A/N: translation: fight for the fuhrer to the last man). Renton looked about him. He was alone, and extremely afraid. Chills went up his back, as he felt that the Germans were closing on him.

"Boys?" No response. "Boys! Boys, where are you?"

"We're right here!" Holland called. He led the others in out of an adjacent room, and joined Renton.

"Stick with me, men! If we get separated, the krauts'll pick us off one by one!" Then they heard it.

"Help! Please help!" Renton covered his mouth in shock and fear.

"Oh God! Did you hear that?"

"We did, Renton," Jean-Paul said. "You're right. Dominic is here. No doubt about it."

"Help! Please help! Somebody! Renton! Holland! Someone!" The voice sounded close. Holland looked behind him and saw a dissheveled staircase, leading to a second floor. Renton saw the stairs too, and pulled out his Thompson, ready to kill any Germans he came across. Renton motioned for all the men to follow him up the stairs, running like the dickens.

"Oh Jesus!" he said. "I hear him. I hear him! I hear you! Dominic? Can you hear me?" Then he heard him, muffled.

"Overhmm! Over here! Hurry! Someone!" Renton and all the men ran up the stairs.

"D'you hear that?! D'you hear that, boys!?" They reached the top of the stairs, and found another room, filled with graffiti and swastikas and occultic symbols.

"Where the fuck is he?!" Holland said, getting jittery, along with the rest of the men. Another call.

"Help! I'm down here! Fellas! Fellas! I'm down here! Help me! Help!" Renton darted his vision to his left, where he saw another staircase. The Germans must've dragged him down to the basment, he thought.

"It's coming from downstairs, boys! Load your weapons! We got 'em now!" All the men cocked their pistols and submachine guns, preparing to move downstairs. All the men were ready and Renton led them down the stairs, running.

"He's downstairs! C'mon boys! I hear him downstairs!"

"Renton wait! Wait for us!" Holland called. Renton was quickly running ahead, leaving them behind. "Renton!"

"Dominic!"

"Wait!" Renton ignored them and entered the basement, dimly lit by a single lightbulb, dangling from the ceiling.

"Dominic? Dominic, are you down here? Answer me!" He darted his vision right and left and then he saw him.

Crouched down in a corner, with nothing but his officer's trousers on, was Dominic. His jet black hair was dissheveled, filled with twigs and leaves, matted across his face. The grey eyes looked to him, as if he had just witnessed a murder. His face was scarred with red slashes on his left cheek, his chest scarred with what looked to be whipping scars. his feet were dirty, almost black, with dirt inbetween his toes. His hands were tied up with twine and string. They had captured and tortured him.

"God, Renton, am I glad to see you! You gotta get me outta here!"

"That's why I'm here. The others are with me. We're bustin' you outta here!" Dominic saw a dark figure coming up behind Renton, out of a doorway to Renton's left, as Holland and the other platoon commanders came running into Dominic's vision, coming from the stairs.

"Renton! Look out! Behind you!"

"What?" The dark figure, a German, came behind him and knocked him upside the head with the butt of his Mauser rifle. Renton fell down on the ground, knocked unconscious. Jean-Paul quickly shot the German with his Thompson, sending a dozen bullets through the German's chest, as Holland and the others reached the bottom of the stairs. The German fell down dead, and the platoon commmanders came running into the basement and to Dominic. Holland quickly took the bayonet off his Mosin-Nagant, and started to cut Dominic's bonds.

"Dominic, what have they done to you?"

"Those goddamn Germans whipped me! These krauts are fuckin' nuts, Holland! They torture, they practice in occult shit, and they...they...!" Dominic shook, paralyzed with fear that the Germans might come back. Holland remembered the graffiti of the SS. They have long been known for blind devotion to Hitler. They often practiced in the occult and carried out torture. (A/N: I've done a lot of research and I've discovered that Hitler and many high-ranking members of the Nazi party actually were involved in the occult, and the symbol of the SS was a skull and crossbones, commonly called the "Death's Head." The crack battalions of the SS were the ones that carried this symbol on their uniforms and sometimes practiced in the occult and in death worship. I don't know if this was practiced exclusively throughout the SS, however.)

"That's what you can expect from the SS," Holland said, not looking up at him and cutting Dominic's bonds. Dominic's eyes widened. The SS, the crack troops of Hitler's army, the ones that would fight to the death and never surrender. No wonder we came across such scary shit, Dominic thought. He didn't want to stay here any longer. All he wanted to do was get as far away from here as possible. Dominic got up and tried to lift Renton, still unconscious, and then dropped him back on the ground. The torture left him weak. Holland lifted Renton onto his back and gave Dominic his pistol and his rifle, and all left the house, killing Germans as they went from room to room. they finally found the door and exited out, and heard savage gunfire. The Germans in the camp had woken up and were trying to break out of the camp. The whole force had surrounded the camp and were firing into the Germans as they ran for their guns and tried to fight back. Several attempts were made by the Germans to break through and escape, to no avail.

"Men," Holland called, "Renton told us to blow the house once we got out of there. Someone wire the house with a satchel charge." Alain and Jean-Paul pulled out satchel charges given to them by paratroopers. They got some wire and circled the building, wiring the house and laying out charges to blow the building. They set the fuse and ran to a safe distance, waiting for the house to come crumbling down.

BOOM!

The whole place became clouded with dust, as the house descended, seemingly into hell, taking the SS troops still in the building with it. The fighting continued to rage around the camp until men from all sides threw grenades into the camp, which quickly detonated. They all waited for firing to resume, but no fire came. The SS troops were all dead. They then turned and headed back to their camp, the fight over. Dominic, completely shaken form his experience and wounded slightly, limped along trying to keep up with the men as they trudged through the woods back to the camp, exhausted from the fight. Holland dragged his feet across the ground as he carried Renton, still out cold, on his back. They reached the camp, and got to their tents to try and get some sleep for tomorrow's march. There would be no more fooling around. From here on out, they woud continue marching until they left the woods, without stopping to pitch camp.

Dominic was greeted by Anemone, who came running into his arms, relieved and crying tears of joy to find that he was all right.

"Dominic! Dominic! I never thought I'd see you again!"

"Me, neither. Jesus, it's good to see you again." The two kissed passionately, each joyous and relieved to find that the other was safe.

Renton was laid down on his cot, trying to regain consciousness. Eureka same running into the tent, and was shocked and terrified to see Renton lying on his cot, comatose and unresponsive. Holland and the platoon commanders were tending to him.

"What's wrong? What happened? Is he hurt?"

"No," Holland said, trying to calm her down. "No, he's not wounded. Just knocked unconscious. He'll be alright."

"Eureka..." Renton said weakly, beginning to regain consciousness.

"Renton, are you all right?"

"God, my head. What hit me?" He then saw Holland and the other platoon leaders. He tried to sit up, worried of what happened to Dominic. "Holland! Alain! Jean-Paul! Boys, what's happened!? Is Dominic okay?! Where is he?! Where is he?!"

"Calm down Renton," Holland said. "He's fine. We got him, and we destroyed the German camp. Everything's been taken care of." Renton laid down and sighed.

"Thank God. We found him. We finally found him." He turned to Eureka. "Did you hear that, Eureka?" he said weakly. "We got him. We found him."

Eureka held his hand tightly and said, "You've done well, Renton. You've really well." Renton closed his eyes, trying to sleep. He would need his strength for tomorrow. "Sleep, Renton. Sleep, my weary soldier. You'll need all your strength for tomorrow morning."

"You know what's funny?" Holland said lightheartedly, looking at his watch.

"What?"

"We went out, got Dominic, destroyed the house he was holed up in, and destroyed the camp...All in less than 20 minutes." Holland looked back to her, smiling.

"He did well, Eureka. He did really well. Now we can move out tomorrow."

All then dispersed and went to their respective tents, to try and get some sleep, for they would need it for the long march tomorrow. They would not stop to pitch camp. They would force-march, not stopping for anything until they reached Caen. They would be there hopefully in two days. All quickly fell asleep, triumphant in their search and rescue operation, which they all knew was worthwhile.

_"Success has many parents, but failure is an orphan."---American Proverb_

* * *

A/N: Whew. Intense and a little haunting, wasn't it? Well. That's it for the scary lost-in-the-woods part. Now here's a preview of what's to come next. 

_The men arrive at Caen, as the British and Canadians are preparing a big offensive: Operation Epsom. On the night before the offensive, the men recount on all the death, fighting and haunting things they've seen._

Did I freak you guys out with those last four chapters? Well, I take pity on you, and decide that I will spare you of a sleepless night by going ahead and getting them out of the woods. I didn't have much else planned for them in there after that in any case, so...yeah. :/ Well. See you next time, my friends. Goodnight and have a pleasant tomorrow,

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	14. Chapter 14: Calm before the Storm

A/N: I guess all you guys were diasppointed with the last chapters and how there weren't many romantic scenes. Well. The fact is they were all focused on gettting out of the f#$&ing woods and staying alive, so I couldn't find places where I could put in any romantic scenes. But don't worry, my fellow romantics. In this one, there will be quite a few romance scenes. Here's a preview.

_Renton and the others have made their way out of the woods and carried out a forced march to Caen. They arrived there two days before a planned offensive by British and Canadians, and have been infromed of the Germans' strength, which was formidable. To Dominic's chagrin, the best units of the whole German Army were defending Caen: the 21st Panzer division, the __Panzer Lehr division, and the_ _12th SS Hitler Youth Panzer Division__. This is going to be a slaughter. Jacques' force has been attached to the British 29th Armoured Brigade, 11th Armoured Division, to take part in the heaviest fighting of the seige. Now, encamped with members of the 29th Armoured, trying to rest with what time they have all reflect on the death, the fighting and the haunting things they've seen. Each takes comfort in their own companion, true feelings are revealed and relationships reaffirmed._

* * *

_"Love makes the world go round."---French Proverb_

**Chapter Fourteen: Calm before the Storm**

**June 24th, 1944**

**8:30 pm, outskirts of Caen**

"Strike up a song, boys," Renton said to the men tiredly around the campfire. "I feel a little down tonight." Holland then pulled out a book of American poetry, trying to find the right one that would cheer him up. Then he found one, written by Walt Whitman.

"As I wander'd through Virginia's woods..." Holland began. At the mention of "woods", the men around the campfire began to hiss and moan. "All right, all right. My mistake. I'll try better next time."

"If I never see another forest again," Dominic said, staring into the flames, still slightly shaken up from his experience, "it's all the same to me. Renton, you were right. Those were no Vichy farmers, and it definitely wasn't just a patrol. They were crack troops. The best. Just like the ones we'll be facing tomorrow. Goddammit!" He pounded his foot on the ground, wishing that they wouldn't have to fight any more SS troops.

"I still don't get," Renton said, "why they hung those swastikas on the trees. Were they just doing that to scare us, to get us to leave?"

"You know what?" Jean-Paul said. "It makes...no...difference. It's a scare tactic used by the boches to try and fuck with our heads. The instant we see something like that, our minds go prone, and the only thing we're focused on is escape! They do that to rattle us up so we are easy prey for them. That's how it worked with the Nazi party." Many nodded and mumbled in agreement.

"That still doesn't explain some things. I mean, they're not the ones that got us lost. They didn't kick the map into the creek." Dominic scowled. "Sorry I brought that up, Dom, but I'm just saying, you know?" Dominic's scowl went away as fast as it came.

"I know," Dominic said, melancholy. "By the way," he turned to Holland. "_You_ crumpled it up into a ball, _I_ kicked it into the creek. Just saying." Holland nodded. "Those SS troops were fuckin' crazy! What I don't get is why they didn't come out and fight us then and there, instead of doing what they did. They just tried to fuck with us, like with those weird piles of rocks, those swastikas and throwing that jelly shit on my pack. Why didn't they just come out and fight?"

"I don't know, Dom. Honestly I don't think we're ever gonna find out. Personally, I really don't give a shit anymore. I'm just glad it's over."

"Yeah, me too. I don't know if I ever want to take another step into a forest again." All were silent for a long while, as Eureka and Anemone came to join them around the campfire.

"How goes it, soldiers?" Anemone asked smiling.

"Passin' well, passin' well," Renton said softly in a low voice. His mind was still shaken from what he saw, like everyone else's. Eureka wrapped her arm around his neck, pulled him in close to her and kissed him on the cheek, trying to jostle him out of his dazed and shaken state. Renton looked to her and smiled in a wistful way, his eyes moody, looking lost, concentrated on greater things.

"That's better than a treatment from a psychiatrist," he said. "Any day." All laughed softly.

Anemone tried to comfort Dominic, still uneasy from his time captured, and said, "It's not gonna happen again. I promise. You're safe now. You're with us now." Dominic smiled and kissed her.

"It's great to see you guys again. I honestly thougth I'd never make it out of there. I thought for a moment you guys might leave me, what with what I did with the map."

"We would never leave without you, Dominic. Renton said so himself. He let the men choose if they wanted to stay and search or if they wanted to go. And all chose to stay." Dominic looked to Renton, smiling. He was a good friend. The best friend he had and a good leader. One of the best. He could be a great general if he got the chance. He could end this war with a good victory. Renton smiled. He would never leave one of his friends behind, and so he chose to stay. The company had chosen to stay, simply because it was the right thing to do. Their decision to do right had paid off, and Dominic was rescued. In the end, as Renton believed, it doesn't matter what the consequences are. Doing the right thing is what's important.

Jacques arrived, greeting the men and joining them around the campfire.

"How goes it, boys?" All mumbled something positive, as all were tired and wanting to relax before the storm of battle tomorrow. They were to attack a large hill, known by the British high command as Hill 112, which commanded the entire area overlooking Caen, and would pin the Panzer divisions down, if captured. It was a German stronghold, and needed to be brought under British control. They would be fighting in conjunction with the other wings of the British and Canadian Armies to bring Caen and the surrounding countryside under their control.

"Are you all ready for tomorrow?"

"Ready as we'll ever be, sir," Renton said tiredly.

"Good. Men, you all know what's before you tomorrow. Give 'em hell." All mumbled a "yessir." Many were tired from the grueling forced march that lasted two days. Marching, walking, never stopping to pitch camp, never stopping to rest. March! March! March! March they did, for as the old military adage went, "ours is not to reason why; ours is but to do or die." All knew the importance of duty and obligation. All were tired, the soles of many shoes worn and nearly gone. All wanted to save their strength for tomorrow and wanted not to be reminded of what they must do in the coming hours. All wanted to rest. Jacques left them to their festivities, deciding not to bother them, for they would need iron nerves for the coming fight.

Holland produced a violin, the one he used to play back home in Russia, before he escaped, and struck a sentimental tune, one known by many. The song came from the Civil War, from a time when the war seemed to be going badly for the Union, speaking to the weary hearts of many a soldier, who in the end only dreamed for the war to end and peace to return. All joined in, some shedding tears, tired of the fighting and wishing for the war to be won and for all to return home:

_We're tenting tonight on the old camp ground,  
Give us a song to cheer  
Our weary hearts, a song of home  
And friends we love so dear._

CHORUS:  
Many are the hearts that are weary tonight,  
Wishing for the war to cease;  
Many are the hearts looking for the right  
To see the dawn of peace.  
Tenting tonight, tenting tonight,  
Tenting on the old camp ground.

We've been tenting tonight on the old camp-ground,  
Thinking of days gone by,  
Of the loved ones at home that gave us the hand,  
And the tear that said, "Good-bye!"

_(chorus)_

The lone wife kneels and prays with a sigh  
That God his watch will keep  
O'er the dear one away and the little dears nigh,  
In the trundle bed fast asleep.

_(chorus)_

_We are tenting tonight on the old camp ground.  
The fires are flickering low.  
Still are the sleepers that lie around,  
As the sentinels come and go._

_(chorus)_

Alas for those comrades of days gone by  
Whose forms are missed tonight.  
Alas for the young and true who lie  
Where the battle flag braved the fight.

_(chorus)_

No more on march or field of strife  
Shall they lie so tired and worn,  
No rouse again to hope and life  
When the sound of drums beat at morn.

_(chorus)_

We are tired of war on the old camp ground,  
Many are dead and gone,  
Of the brave and true who've left their homes,  
Others been wounded long.

_(chorus)_

We've been fighting today on the old camp ground,  
Many are lying near;  
Some are dead, and some are dying,  
Many are in tears.

FINAL CHORUS:  
Many are the hearts that are weary tonight,  
Wishing for the war to cease;  
Many are the hearts looking for the right,  
To see the dawn of peace.  
Dying tonight, dying tonight,  
Dying on the old camp ground.

All tiredly sat, looking into the flames of the crackling campfire, casting an orangey glow on the weary, battered, but determined soldiers. Alain, eyes bloodshot, kepi lazily cocked to one side, lost in thought. Jean-Paul, brown hair matted under his black beret, grime on his face. Hector, blond hair smoothed out, mouth creased slightly, as if trying to think of something to say, but instead staying silent, too tired to speak. Gerard, Adrian helmet in his lap and staring into the flames, brooding on what challenges tomorrow would bring. Holland, grey eyes glinting in the firelight, looking all about him as he knew that tomorrow's battle would, God forbid, be their last. Dominic, with Anemone resting her head on his shoulder, smoothing out his jet black hair, dark circles under his eyes, yawning, now calm ed down somewhat, now that they were out of those God-forsaken woods. And Renton, the leader of this motley crew, clasping Eureka's hand tightly, looking into her wondrous grey eyes, running his fingers through her dark hair, her head resting against his, inches from kissing her.

"Do it, chief," Dominic said, he and Anemone smiling at them. "Lift up our hearts with a nice sight. Renton and Eureka looked to each other and smiled.

"Should we, Renton?"

"I'd rather do it somewhere else. Where we can be alone..."

"Oooo!" Dominic and Anemone swooned. "Hope you two aren't thinking of anything serious!" The two faked a scowl and smiled.

"No," Eureka said. "We're saving that for when we're married." Alain, Jean-Paul, Hector and Gerard all raised their eyebrows, casting smirks at them.

"Marriage? You know, Captain," Alain said, smiling, "there is a cathedral in Caen. We can make an arrangement for you two." Renton and Eureka looked to each other worriedly.

"Well, we're Protestant, so..." Eureka said, slightly embarrassed.

"Doesn't matter. We are all equal in the eyes of God," Jean-Paul said, smiling. Renton and Eureka smiled back.

"I'm still waiting for a marriage license back in the States," Renton said. He looked to Eureka, who had a small frown. She had waited for something like this to come for a long time, and now, even though her birthday in November was still five months away, their chance at a married life was so close to them, just within their grasp. Renton thought, I love her so much. I can't disappoint her. To hell with the marriage license! To hell with the legalities and regulations! I love her, and I want to start a life together.

"Aw," Renton said, smiling, "To hell with it! I love you, Eureka! I won't let a chance like this pass us by. When the seige is over, and when Caen is in British hands, we'll go to the cathedral and get married."

Eureka gasped, and put her hands over her mouth, realizing what he just said.

"Renton!" She threw her arms around him, crying, overcome with joy, knocking the both of them off the log they were sitting on. All could not resist breaking forth in cheers at vows they had just taken. Renton, with Eureka on top of him, smiled and pressed her close to him, whispering her name.

"Eureka..."

"I...I love you so much, Renton! I want to be with you forever!"

"Me too, Eureka. Together forever. It's a promise." They sealed their vow with a kiss, amidst the cheers and laughs of his subordinates.

"I knew they went well together," Dominic said. "Beter they get married now; they'll be happier. I'll take care of the legalities back home."

Anemone smiled at her fiance, and said, "You do that. Like the good man you are." They kissed, reveling in their feeling of togetherness, and joyous at their friends' good fortunes. All were happy in that instant, and when all was said and done, a lighthearted tune struck up, in another campfire across from them, and all sang and clapped their hands to the song. The song was over as soon as it began, and all yawned, realizing it was time for them to turn in. Holland had a slow song to play, before all went to their respective tents. He placed his violin on his shoulder and played an old sentimental song, especially for Renton and Eureka. The song was one from the Civil War, and one of Renton's favorites, one that often brought him to tears. The song, famous and known to many as one of the greatest songs ever written during the Civil War, was called _"Just Before the Battle, Mother_". Dominic and the other platoon leaders sang along to the old song:

_Just before the battle, mother,  
I am thinking most of you,  
While upon the field we're watching  
With the enemy in view.  
Comrades brave are 'round me lying,  
Filled with thoughts of home and God  
For well they know that on the morrow,  
Some will sleep beneath the sod._

_CHORUS:  
Farewell, mother, you may never (Holland, in a low baritone voice, in harmony with Dominic: "You may never, Mother")  
Press me to your breast again,  
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,  
If I'm numbered with the slain._

_Oh, I long to see you, mother,  
And the loving ones at home,  
But I'll never leave our banner,  
Till in honor I can come.  
Tell the traitors all around you  
That their cruel words we know,  
In every battle kill our soldiers  
By the help they give the foe.  
_

_CHORUS:  
Farewell, mother, you may never ("You may never, Mother")  
Press me to your breast again,  
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,  
If I'm numbered with the slain._

_Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,  
'Tis the signal for the fight,  
Now, may God protect us, mother,  
As He ever does the right.  
Hear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom,"  
How it swells upon the air,  
Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard,  
Or we'll perish nobly there._

_CHORUS:  
Farewell, mother, you may never ("You may never, Mother")  
Press me to your breast again,  
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,  
If I'm numbered with the slain._

All then chose to turn in, leaving the young couple alone, eyeing the fire. They turned to each other, wrapped in each other's arms. They smiled, looking longingly into each other's eyes, having reaffirmed their love and commitment, which all knew would never die. Renton's peircing dark green eyes glinted in the flickering firelight, seemingly lost, gloomy over the sin he must commit again tomorrow morning. If killing again meant the two could be married, then that was just a sin he'd have to bear. Nothing was to come between him and his Eureka. Renton took her soft cheek in his hand and kissed her gently, trying to clear his head for what would come tomorrow morning. That always helped him.

"Let's get to sleep," he said, "We're gonna need our strength for tomorrow." Eureka smiled lightly.

"Until tomorrow then, my darling."

They rose, put out the fire and headed for their tents and their cots. What would tomorrow bring? What new challenges awaited them? Would they survive? All those questions were repeated over and over as they climbed into their respective cots. They wondered, pondered, dreamed of what tomorrow would bring, until their eyes slowly closed, just as the crickets began to chirp, the owls hooted, and the moon rose higher into the sky, shining down on the band of freedom fighters, weary and tired, knowing not of what tomorrow will bring.

_"True love is a durable fire, in the mind ever burning."---Sir Walter Ralegh_

* * *

A/N: I choked up a little bit as I was writing this. I'm sure all of you did too. (sniff) :') (sniff) I hope I satisfied all you romantics and softies out there. Hey, I'm a romantic too, so...yeah. :) Anyway, it's settled; they're gonna be married once the seige is over. Here's a preview of what will come next... 

_After repelling numerous armored German counterattacks throughout the day on June 25th, the men prepare to assault Hill 112, throwing everything they have at the German stronghold. This may be the toughest fight of their lives. Will they survive the assault?_

That's all I can give you, my friends. ;) The rest will have to wait for next time. Until then read and review.

Thank you, my friends, may God bless you!

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	15. Chapter 15: Onward and Upward!

A/N: I think I must have made a lot of people very happy with the last chapter. Now I should give you all fair warning: this is mainly about their fight for Hill 112, and I've done a lot of research to make this as historically accurate as possible. However, there will be a couple romance scenes in this. Read and review, if you would be so kind. Captain Thurston's orders!

Warning: Some strong language, blood, and violence, and there will be a character death in this chapter. You have been warned.

* * *

_"Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more! Or close the wall up with our English dead!"---Henry V, urging his men forward in the seige of Harfleur in 1415. (Taken from William Shakespeare's play "Henry V")_

**Chapter Fifteen: Onward and Upward!**

**June 27th, 1944**

**Bottom of Hill 112, outskirts of Caen, France**

The 11th Armoured Division from the British Army sat in wait for the order to attack the large hill that loomed over them. They arrived during the night and were camped near the very bottom of the summit, out of sight of the Germans. They had formed an assault line, two infantry brigades in front and the tanks and support units in back. In front of this large formidable force, 300 men, some French, some American and a few Russian, were at the head, planning how they will assault the large hill.

"All right men," Jacques said. "This is it. We have to move quickly if we want to take the hill. I want all companies to form compact assault columns. We must not waste time stopping to fire. The whole force is to charge up the hill, and take the trenches by storm. Understand?"

"Yessir," all the commanders replied.

"Renton, you will be leading the attack. The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders will be on your left and the Rifle Brigade will be on your right. Henri will come up right behind you and behind him will be the 29th Armoured Brigade and the rest of the 11th Armoured Division. Do you understand? You will be leading us, Renton." Renton nodded, shaking slightly at the audacious task given to him. He would not fail, he thought. He must not fail! The whole attack depended on him! Renton then reported back to the company, ordering all the commanders to take positions and form the platoons in assault columns. He made it critical to all that no one was to fire until they reached the top. Within five minutes, the men fromed the assault columns and Renton led them cautiously up the hill, still out of the sight of the Germans.

He looked to his front, seeing the green grass swaying in the wind, the guns of the Germans still out of view. He led them forward, sword held outward, eyes only looking to the front. This was a testing time, what would be the fight of his life.He looked to his right and there, decked in kilts and plaid uniforms was the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. Brave soldiers, men who wold never waver in battle, never take one step back. His right was secure with those men. He turned to the front again, seeing the green grass floating in the breeze. He looked further, and there was a ridge, big enough to give his company cover while he scouted the position. He stopped and dropped down behind it, pulling out his binoculars, looking upward to see the first German defenses; the whole line stopped. He saw mostly infantry and MG42s, but no signs of any tanks. To the horizon, at the top of the summit, were more infantry and machineguns, along with some AT guns, dug in. This was going to be a slaughter. Many men would die. It will be a hard slog, but once we're through the lines, Renton thought, we're through. He motioned for his company to come up, staying low. The men, still in their tight assault columns, promptly came up and dropped down behind the ridge, keeping their formation. Renton called his commanders together.

"Listen, boys. We're just coming up to the German defenses. They're a ways away from the summit, so they must be the primary firing line. Now we to take them quickly and efficiently; the Germans might come out from their defenses and attack us, then all hell will break lose. No one fires. Every one keeps quiet."

"Sir," Holland said, "the Germans will hit us as we're coming up. How do we keep them quiet?" Renton smiled and immediately pulled out a smoke grenade, the kind he used back at Stalingrad when he assaulted the ridge. They would use it here.

"These smoke grenades will give us some cover, so we can come straight up and take them by surprise. They can't hit what they can't see. Everyone pull out a smoke grenade." The platoon commanders promptly did so, and faced the German defenses, ready to throw. Renton had one more order to give.

"Fix bayonets," he whispered. The men locked their bayonets onto the muzzles of their rifles, ready to charge. Onward and upward was the call. All held their rifles close to them, ready to do or die. All eyes looked to Renton. "Go on the smoke." Renton and the commanders threw the smoke grenades and waited for the smoke to fill. Soon enough, the sound of gas hissing filled their ears and the smoke began to rise, a great curtain looming over the German lines. Renton, sword extended outward, pistol at the ready, ran forward, with the men and the whole attack line following him. There were no cheers, no roar of a battlecry, silence, and silence only. The element of surprise was key.

They charged straight up, never looking to their rear, never thinking of turning and running. No one was to turn. Onward and upward were the words all chanted silently. Onward and upward! No retreat! Attack! They came straight up and took the Germans by surprise. The MG crews were quickly killed and the men were inside the trenches, grappling with the enemy. The fighting was at very close quarters. Renton killed one German after another in blind fury, stabbing them with his sword and shooting them, at point blank range, with his pistol. Dominic, still smarting from his torture by the SS, grabbed a German by the shirt collar, and shot the German through the face with his pistol. Paul stabbed a German through the torso with the pike on his flagstaff. Hector and Gerard bashed Germans over the heads with digging spades or clubbed them with their helmets. Renton looked about many, and saw the men, sometimes killing Germans with their bare hands, biting them, with the look of wild beasts. The British Highlanders and the Rifle Brigade secured both flanks as the tanks came up, ready to assault the next line. Renton gave the go-ahead to all his commanders as each blew their whistles and, mingling with the tanks of the 11th Armoured, came charging up the hill, Paul's flag flying high in the sky, roaring at the top of their lungs. Onward and upward!

They charged into the next set of trenches, taking them literally by the point of the bayonet. Hand-to-hand fighting ensued, and many were killed. Renton grabbed a German fired his pistol, blowing a hole in the German's torso big enough for his arm. Holland hit another upside the head with the butt of his rifle and stabbed him in the back, killing him. All the talk of morality and respect for your fellow man went out the window once the bullets went flying. The tanks came rumbling up the hill, and, scared that they might be outnumbered, the Germans ran out of their trenches and retreated, running for the rear, at the top of the summit. The men in the trenches capitalized their fatal mistake and refaced the MG42s, killing them as they ran. Renton, Holland and Paul exited the trenches and urged the men on. The men, swelling with confidence at the retreating enemy ran out and followed their captain, his lieutenant and their flagbearer, yelling, "Onward and upward, boys! They are breaking! Raise the colors and fly onward and upward!"

One by one, the trenches fell to the them and the British. They were now a few hundred yards away from the summit, and they were now coming under heavy fire from the MG42s and Pak-38 and Pak-40 AT guns. They were stuck in the trenches, waiting for the order to advance. Renton looked to his men, who wore the hard stern faces of veterans, ready to do or die. He looked to his platoon commanders, and saw Stoner among them, taking snapshots of fighitng from the trenches for another story in his report. Leave him be, Renton thought. Concentrate on what must be done. Renton looked to his front, and saw chaos. Death around, in front, behind, and madness...everywhere. MG42s killed men by the score as they tried foolishly to charge without any cover, stopping to fire. Pak-38s and Pak-40s tore the British tanks to shreds as they came rumbling up the hill. Renton and the platoon commanders knew they could not stay here if the hill was to be taken. They must move forward. Onward and upward!

They all reached for another smoke grenade and threw them with all their might at the German lines. The gas filled and smoke covered the field, leaving the Germans blind as to what was in front of them. Renton and the men charged out of the trenches and forward, no yelling, no battle cries, silence. Onward and upward they charged, once more into the breach. The men were now at the summit and they ran into the trenches, and severe fighitng, hand-to-hand, face-to-face, abounded. Men went down, more killed than wounded. Through the smoke of battle, it became hard to distinguish who was winning and who was losing. Renton's platoon commanders, with Holland leading them as Renton directed the men in the trenches, killed a Pak-38 crew and captured the gun, killing other Pak crews as the tanks came rumbling up. Chaos swirled around the freedom fighters, as more and more, the Germans became uneasy and started to retreat. And just as Renton and the others charged onward and upward, chasing the retreating Germans off the hill, on the verge of victory...

Stoner falls.

He saw him, with the men as they surged forward to the other side of the hill, mingling with the tanks of the 11th Armoured, running with them. A shot then rang out and Renton saw a red flash of blood near Stoner's sternum. Stoner, shot through the heart, doubled up, and turned to the sky, throwing his camera and notepad into the air, as he, blood seeping from his mouth, fell on his back, face towards the bright blue sky. All other actions seemed to slow down as Renton, followed by Holland and the other platoon commanders ran to Stoner, and caught the camera and notepad, saving the camera from breaking when it was just a few feet from the ground. Stoner looked up to Renton, smiling, a small stream of blood coming from his mouth as he whispered, as best he could...

"Renton, tell the boys back at the office that I gave them a good story."

And he died. Not an eye was dry. A stretcher was soon called for and Stoner's body was brought to the end of the plateau of the summit, and was tended to. Renton and the others looked on, seeing the men on the other side, away from them, firing down at the retreating Germans, cheering, yelling, grabbing each other, as Paul waved the _tricolour_, the flag of the old French Republic, the sight symbolizing all of soldiers' dreams: triumph. It was strange, an ironic twist of fate, all mused, that although they won the hill, they lost a friend.

Eureka, Anemone and the other nurses came to tend to the wounded and check on the other men. Eureka and Anemone were euphoric to find that Renton and Dominic and Holland were all right. Eureka, fearful during the hours of fighting that Renton would be wounded or killed, wrapped her arms around him immediately and sent him tumbling to the ground, she was so happy. She kissed him deeply, absolutely overcome with relief that he was still among the living. Renton, overwhlemed after that horrific battle, which must've cost them many good men, and shaken by Stoner's death, wanted to save this for another time, but Eureka was so happy, he couldn't disappoint her. He decided to hell with it, and gradually kissed her back. Anemone grabbed Dominic and embraced him, crying softly, as Dominic patted the back of her head, shushing her, telling her, "It's all right. We're okay. Thanks to Renton. He led us, onward and upward."

»»»»»

Nightfall came, and Renton and Jacques, in their new headquarters at the summit of the hill, went over the casualty figures. Surprisingly, though the fighting was extremely tough for the British, the band of freedom fighters had only sustained 50 casualties out of 300, and reinforcements of the French Resistance from a nearby village, captured by the 15th Scottish Division, were coming up to join them. They were now at the very front of a salient, a bulge in the Allied lines, protruding deep into the German lines. Now the only orders they had, along with the 11th Armoured Division, was to hold the hill.

"The only question now," Renton said, looking over a map of the salient made, "is how long can we hold?"

"Hold until relieved," Jacques said sternly. "Hold until relieved." Renton nodded and the meeting ended. Renton walked outside and joined Dominic and Holland, who had not suffered a scratch in the fight, something truly remarkable. They walked together, joined later by Eureka and Anemone to see what had been done for Stoner. They walked to the aid station, where a makeshift graveyard was made. They walked among the rows of crosses and Stars of David, until they found a cross, topped with a red beret. It was Stoner's grave. Renton knelt down and stared at the beret decked cross, lit by the full moon. A tear ran down his cheek, mourning the loss of his new friend, whose great commitment to his duty as a reporter became the source of his own demise. His last words were enough to show his commitment to bring this, the opening phase of what would be the beginning of the end: "Tell the boys I gave them a good story." Eureka knelt down, placing her hands on his shoulders trying to calm him, as he, along with the others, started to cry, grief-stricken at his death. Renton was not privy to what others said around him, as they all tried to comfort him. He and the others went silent when they heard what seemed to be Stoner's voice.

"Take the camera and notepad...and take it back to them when it's all over. Tell them I died while getting the big scoop." All nodded silently promising that when they returned they would stop by the newspaper office. Renton took the notepad and camera and shoved it into his knapsack, making sure he won't lose it. It was his responsibility now. All left him alone as he tried to reconcile with his death. He then heard him speak again, as did all as they walked back to the lines.

"Give 'em hell, fellas. Give 'em hell."

"We will, Stoner," all said silently. "We promise. We'll give 'em a whipping for you." They left the grave, going back to the lines to await a German attack in the morning. The krauts were sure to launch many counterattacks to pinch out the salient. They had to hold, until the end of the offensive. Renton and Eureka went back to their cots and tried to reconcile with each other. They looked into each other's eyes, and Eureka tried to say, through thought, "It's God's will. We will justify his sacrifice. All will be forgiven." Renton, tired and shaken up from what had happened, wished not to be reminded. He lay down in his cot, fully clothed, and tried to sleep. Eureka in sympathy for Renton, gave him a kiss on the lips, saying, "Sleep, my weary soldier. Sleep, because tomorrow you'll be needed in the fight. Sleep, for the sake of your men. Sleep, for your fiancee. Sleep, for Stoner." Renton fell asleep, sleeping for all, sleeping for Stoner. We'll miss you, Stoner, Renton thought. We'll give those krauts hell...for you.

_"It is well that war is so terrible, lest we grow too fond of it."---Confederate General Robert E. Lee, 1862_

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A/N: Stoner's dead. Sad, yes. Very sad. :'( But...how many more will die? Try and figure it out with this preview... 

_Operation Epsom intensifies, as the Germans desperately try to pinch out the salient made by the British. They launch severe counterattacks against the defenders of Hill 112, and slowly, the band of freedom fighters begin to lose their strength, run low on ammunition and the men begin to fall around Renton..._

Who will die next? You'll have to see next time. Until then read and review, by orders from Captain Thurston.

JA!

Renton and Eureka Forever.


	16. Chapter 16: Seige of Hill 112: Day One

A/N: Firstly, I just checked my stats and found that my two stories combined have gotten 1,000+ hits! WAHOOO:D I want to thank you all for being kind enough to take the time to read my stories! I really appreciate it. Secondly, I want to give you a lowdown on what's to come next: The next three chapters inclusive will be essentially covering the fight for Hill 112, and the casualties taken, but there will be a few romance scenes. Stoner's dead, but more will die in his stead. Operation Epsom intensifies, as the Germans launch fierce counterattacks to pinch out the salient created by the British offensive. Renton and the others now must hold the hill until the end of Operation Epsom, but will they survive until then? Read an' see if you wanna know! By orders of Captain Thurston.

Warning: Some strong language, blood, and violence, and there will be a character death in this chapter and more in the next ones to come. You have been warned.

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_"In war there is no substitute for victory."---General Douglas MacArthur_

**Chapter Sixteen: Seige of Hill 112 (Day one)**

**June 28th, 1944 **

**Hill 112, southwest of Caen**

The men, dug in their new trenches on the side of the hill facing the Germans, looked to their front, some aiming down the barrel of their rifles, some cleaning their guns, some sleeping, trying to strengthen their nerves. Renton sat with Dominic and Holland, looking out among the men. They knew an attack would come today. Many would come. Many would die. Many good men would die. There was no wavering though. This was the good fight, all believed. The fight for freedom. Freedom of speech. Freedom of worship. Freedom from want. Freedom from fear. Freedom, liberty, democracy. That was what this war was all about.

"How many do you think will come today, chief?" Dominic asked, cleaning his BAR.

"Well," Renton said quietly, "these will be the first assaults, so they'll just be trying to feel us out, probe for weak spots. We won't get that much fighting, I think. Prob'ly bring up a few tanks, but not enough to make it a serious engagement." He turned to Holland. "Holland, how are we with ammunition?" Holland smiled.

"Very good sir. I've sent some men to bring up extra ammunition for the men. I think we should hand out 50 or 60 rounds per man."

"Yes. 60 rounds I think.Yes, that's adequate."

"Chief?" Dominic said solemnly, looking to his left, where the 15th Scottish had captured a town. He heard a lot of peppering in that direction. "Seems to me that the fight's on that side of the hill. Seems to me that...we're the side door. All the stuff's happenin' at the front door."

"Well, Dom, they're in a town on the river Odon. The river valley is steep and bare. Comes straight up. It ain't possible. The Germans are gonna come straight up the hill. They got no other way to go. Every other way is blocked by the Limeys. They'll try to come up and take it by storm. We gotta hold this hill." He slapped his cap on his knee. "We _got_ to hold it. No one withdraws, no one retreats, no one stops firing. Boys..." He saluted them, and they quickly returned it. "...may God go with you this day." They nodded and assumed their spot in the trenches, looking to the front. Renton saw the front too, a great Normandy field, green, beautiful. There was a slight gully a ways from the top of the summit, where he was standing. That would afford the krauts a good firing position. The British mortars would take care of those krauts, if he gave them the fire coordinates. They would make short work of the krauts.

"Ready for the fight today, Renton?" Renton turned to be greeted by Paul, the flagbearer, holding the tricolour close to him, almost caressing it.

"Oui, Paul. I hope only that the fight isn't too difficult. I don't to wanna lose another man, like I lost Stoner yesterday." Paul turned to the sky, seemingly remembering Stoner.

"Stoner...a good reporter. A regular William Randolph Hearst." Paul shook himself from his momentary daze and brought himself back to Renton. "People will always be killed in war, Renton. It's a simple fact of life. Some will be friends, some will be enemies."

"I know. I just I don't wanna lose any more good boys."

"If anyone dies today, Renton, they will be the good boys. War is hell." Paul smiled wistfully, wishing war was not like that. Renton patted him on the shoulder and looked to the flag. He needed every man able to hold a rifle in the lines. He would have to plant that flag somewhere.

"Paul, you're gonna have to do somethin' 'bout that flag. I need you to get your rifle and get in the trenches. I will waste no man today." Paul smiled and saluted. He took the flag in his hands, and jammed it into the ground, in front of Renton. He grabbed his rifle, a World War I surplus Lebel bolt-action rifle. He cocked it, and looked to Renton, smiling.

"I shall not fail you today, mon capitaine." Renton smiled and nodded.

"Get to the trenches and keep a clear eye." Paul nodded and ran for the trenches, aiming his rifle down into field below, waiting for the attack. Renton looked about him on the plateau, and watched little vignettes as they popped up around him, cleaning his Garand rifle with a ramrod. He saw one of his men arguing with a British infantryman, something about how all the ammunition they brought up was for their Enfield rifles and Bren machineguns and Sten submachine guns, and not for the weapons his men had. The British man said something about how they didn't expect those "Resistance blokes" to join them, and the arguing continued as Renton laughed loud; no one noticed however. He saw Englishmen bringing up the artillery pieces and his men bringing up the captured Pak-38s and Pak-40s, to give the kraut tanks a taste of their own medicine. His men had a lot of AP (armor-piercing) shells. Those would get the krauts in a second. If the krauts came hard, they would give them a run for their money, make their assault a costly one.

"Are you alright, mon capitaine?" He turned to see Jean-Baptiste Turat, the boy who swallowed his fear at Hill 30. The boy wore a black beret, the one he wore on Hill 30, carried a Garand rifle, now had a shadow on his face, his hair shaggy, hanging. The eyes were still those little pieces of coal he saw at Hill 30, but they were solid with determination, the determination and resolve of a veteran. He wasn't a raw recruit anymore. He was a seasoned veteran, hardened by the fights at Hill 30, the woods, those damned woods, the woods that scared everyone half to death, and the fight up Hill 112. He was solid. He was not a boy anymore. He was a man now.

"I'm fine, Turat. I'm just nervous."

"Sort of the way everyone is right now, isn't it, Capitaine?"

"Yes."

"Capitaine, I want to say that I won't turn and hide in my trench today. I'll stand up and fight today. I won't turn and run." Renton smiled and patted him on the shoulder, knowing that after the talk he gave him on Hill 30 he would not retreat.

"I know you will do your duty, like everyone else. Go into the trenches and await further orders." Turat smiled and saluted. He cocked his rifle and ran for the trenches taking a spot next to his platoon commander, Jean-Paul. Renton walked to the trenches, to be joined by Eureka.

"Hello, Eureka. You ready for the fight today?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I'll be praying for you, Renton." Renton smiled. He turned to her, decked in a blue and white dress, wearing a nurse's hat with a red cross, and kissed her.

"I'll be here when this is over. I'll see you when this is over. Wait for me."

"I'll wait until the end of time if I have to." The two smiled and they parted, as each felt the attack was coming. Renton dropped into the trenches, pulled out his binoculars and looked to the front. He saw shadows in the distance, and adjusted his binoculars to get a closer look.

Germans. Lots of them, coming straight at him. They were the SS Hitler Youth. Boys forced to play the soldier. They all looked to be about as old as they were, and maybe a little younger. The age of the eldest among them couldn't have been 17. The youngest...by the looks of them, 13. Boys. Just little boys. Boys playing soldier, for a cause that was becoming futile with each passing day.

"Take your positions!" Renton called. Immediately all guns were cocked and pointed at the front. Machineguns stood at the ready, the men ready to fight to the death. They would not retreat from their home soil. Not one centimeter of ground shall be given up! Victory or death! Renton looked back to his front and saw tanks, Panzer Mk IV class, coming up. He dealt with them in Stalingrad. Tanks that could easily be taken out. They had that boxy-looking armor that could be obliterated on impact with a shell.

"Bring up those AT guns!" The Pak-38s and Pak-40s were brought up and took up a firing position a little ways below the summit. They had the high ground and would make the Germans pay for every step. The SS troops were coming close. They were now a little less than 250 yards from them. Renton ordered the men to wait until they were 100 yards away; no one could withstand fire from that range. They came on, closer and closer.

"READY!" All the rifles were leveled.

"AIM!" Each pointed his rifle to the front, waiting for the final command. A pause. Closer. Closer. Let them close. Come close and hesitate!

"FIRE!"

All the men opened a tremendous volley into the Germans' ranks. Many boys fell, whole units of boys seemed to be mowed down as if by command. The Pak-38s and Pak-40s started firing, tearing many tanks to shreds, casting large gaping holes in the attack line. The fire became so intense that the men could do nothing but hit the ground and crawl to whatever cover they could find. Good luck finding any, Renton thought to himself, as the mortars, further to the rear, opened up and fell on the advancing Germans. Holes were cast as men were flung into the air by the mortar shells, like ragdolls. They ran for the ridge, trying to get a firing position, but the mortar fire was so incessant that one might as well be in the open as behind that ridge. Many boys charged on, only to be mowed down by Renton's men. They shot down Germans by the score, just as they were coming out from that gully, One German's gut got shot out of the slope and created quite an upset among the others attacking. Renton walked down the length of the trenches encouraging his men, saying, "keep up your fire, boys! Just like on the ranges! Pick a target! Maintain your fields of fire!" He came down to Dominic, firing his BAR as if the whole German army was coming at him, with a stern hard face, the face of a veteran.

"How's it comin', Dom?" Dominic turned to him with a smile and stamped his foot joyously on the floorboards of the trench.

"We're doin' just fine, Cap'n! Like shootin' fish in a barrel!" Renton smiled and walked on to Holland, to check and see how ammunition was coming along.

"We're holding good so far. As long as the Germans don't bring up reinforcements, we're good."

"Conserve your ammo and tell your boys to only hit what they can see. Make every shot count!" He walked away and reassumed his position in the firing line. To his left, further along the line in the trenches, were the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, decked in their kilts and plaid uniforms. Tough boys. Not the kind that would turn and run. To his right, was the crack Rifle Brigade, made of excellent marksmen, known for never missing a shot. They would prove resourceful in the assaults to come. He looked to his front through his binoculars and saw more reinforcements coming up. The ground exploded, a result of firing from the British artillery, further behind. He saw more SS Hitler Youths and tanks. Dammit, he cursed. I thought this would be a probe! It's turning into an all-out assault!

The reinforcements came up and the Germans began to return fire. The men in the trenches began to fall, one by one. Some wounded, some killed, all the while as he walked along and encouraged his men. Just gotta keep them pinned, he thought. Keep 'em pinned and there will be no trouble. He ran up to the trenches and fired his rifle as the Germans came on. The Germans were now increasing in number and coming closer to the trenches. You'll capture this hil over my dead body, he thought. He pulled out a grenade and tossed it. The grenade detonated and sent two boys flying into air, only to hit the ground, dead.

"Good throw, capitaine!"

He looked to his left and saw none other than Jean-Baptiste Turat, smiling at him, commending him for his kill. Renton patted the young man on the shoulder and directed him to keep firing. He fired his rifle wildly into the advancing Germans, knocking them down by the dozen. The Germans were coming closer, but they were taking heavy casualties. What was left of their force began to waver and fall back to the gully. Renton and Turat fired into the retreating Germans, killing many. The Hitler Youths regrouped in the gully and rallied for one more try. Then they came rushing out of the gully, yelling at the top of their lungs, screaming in German. They were mowed down as they came up, Panzers exploding as they were hit by the AP shells, men dying all around them. They got to within 30 paces of the trenches, and the shooting intensified. Then...

Down went Turat.

A bullet zipped through his neck and he fell down on the floorboard, dying instantly without a word. Not even a goodbye to his captain. Jean-Baptiste Turat, the boy who swallowed his fear at Hill 30, the boy who went from raw recruit to solid veteran in a few short weeks, a boy who recognized his duties as a man and a soldier, lay dead, blood slowly pouring from the wound in his neck. Renton got down on the floor board and held Turat, staring him in the face, being greeted by the blank hanging stare given only by the dead. He liked that boy, and he didn't even know him well. He held him close, as if he was his own brother, the sadness building up inside him. Just then Eureka arrived to take him away.

"Make sure he's properly tended to," Renton choked, the sadness tearing him up. Eureka looked at him solemnly.

"He will not die in vain, Renton. All of us will make sure of that." Renton nodded firmly as Eureka called for a stretcher. The stretcher soon came and they carried him away to be tended to at the aid station, though he knew as well as Eureka did that nothing could be done for him. He was dead. Eureka knew that Renton could not let his emotions get to him at this critical moment and called him to go back.

"Go back to the front, Renton. Your men need you. Fight them back...for Turat's sake" Renton nodded, sniffed as the sadness was building up more and more, pulled out his Thompson and sprayed a sheet of fire at the Germans who were starting to back away. Renton was overcome now with rage at the Germans.

"No one kills Turat gets away with it! Come on, damn you! You wanna get shot!? Keep fuckin' comin at us!" Eureka left him, as she knew that she was safer back at the aid station where she was needed. Renton needed to be left alone to his work.

The Germans began to waver and fall back. The line was too strong for them. They started to retreat, but some foolish boys, looking to be no older than 14, charged, screaming in German. They went down instantly. The rest of the force, shattered and morale broken, retreated to the safety of the bottom of the hill, amidst the whooshing of artillery shells as they fell on the Germans, as they retreated further to regroup. No escape. That hill was a living hell. The attack had been beaten and the men in the trenches cheered, all but Renton, who shook his head, mixed with the sadness for the loss of Turat, and knowing that this was just the beginning. They were just testing them. The next time would be bloodier, and more brutal, as more men and tanks came up.

They did not come again that day. They launched horrific assaults on both flanks, where the 15th Scottish and the 43rd Wessex were stationed, trying to feel out for a weak spot. He went over the casualty report that night with Jacques and found that the whole force had taken 50 casualties, cutting it evenly between the two companies. The thing that made these seemingly light casualties different was that they had no replacements. As long as the Germans kept coming, the force would continue to lose men until eventually they were bled white. And he knew the Germans would come back tomorrow, with even more men, more tanks, more boys to be sacrificed, until his men along with the whole 11th Armoured were forced to fall back.

That night he walked back to the aid station and to the nearby graveyard, looking to see what had been done for Turat. He found a newmade grave, using his rifle as a cross and topped with his black beret. There were the symbols of his resolve, his determination to fight, to drive the Germans to hell, and that spirit of devotion and bravery that told Renton, "I won't turn and run." He knelt down, looking at his dirty black beret. A tear ran down his cheek, as he saw a boy turn into a man and die right before his eyes. We won't forget you, Jean-Baptiste Turat, Renton thought. Your sacrifice shall not be in vain. We won't turn and run, just as you chose not to turn and run. He stood up. He turned to the aid station, a series of tents lit by lanterns, and started to walk in that direction to talk to Eureka about what had happened today when suddenly...

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Shells fell all around him. German artillery, he thought, as he ran into the aid station to force everyone to the trenches. He got in and yelled, "THE KRAUTS ARE SHELLIN' US! TAKE COVER IN THE TRENCHES!" The doctors, nurses, and wounded were dragged from the tents and rushed into a trench close to the rear. All men were forced into the trenches by the shelling. The medical personell took shelter in a bomb-proof, an underground bunker built in with the trenches. They would tend to the wounded here until the operation was over. Renton found Eureka and, through the mericiless shelling, found comfort in each others arms, not saying a word, as they rocked back and forth and tried to calm themselves for the fight tomorrow, as the shelling went on.

_"The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active and the brave."---Patrick Henry_

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A/N:Thank you again from the bottom of my heart for being kind enough to read my stories. It really gets me here (Pounds chest, smiles). 

Stay in the trenches! Those were the orders given and they followed. Now Renton and Eureka as well as Dominic and Anemone are going to be in close contact with one another as more and more men go down. The next chapter will be following Dominic Sorel' point of view. Here's a preview.

_As Jacques' men try desperately to hold on against the German onslaught, Dominic Sorel's and Jean-Paul's men fight together inside the trenches, each fighting to protect their comrade, their brother-in-arms. But out of Dominic and Jean-Paul, one of these men will not survive..._

I guess now all you Dominic Sorel lovers think I'm gonna kill him off! Well...we shall see who goes down. Read and review, and if you're _so_ in love with Dominic, don't be afraid to put forth your fears for him in your review. I'll write you back...if I can stay alive on the hill. Tee hee.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	17. Chapter 17: Soul of the Lion: Day Two

A/N: This chapter is from Dominic Sorel's point of view, and he's in the thick of the fighiting,. Here's the breakdown: the Germans aren't screwing around any more. They launch more counterattacks with a growing intensity, frequency, and strength as they try to pinch out the salient. More and more, good men begin to fall, and ammunition is running low. No fresh units can be brought up. Now it's a matter of life or death: hold the hill or die trying. Operation Epsom intensifies, and the battle is rapidly going against the British. What does it mean for our motley crew?

Warning: Some blood and violence, and there will be character deaths in this chapter and more in the next one to come. You have been warned.

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_"Never attack in front of a position that admits of being turned."---Napoleon Bonaparte_

**Chapter Seventeen: Soul of the Lion (Day Two)**

**June 29th, 1944**

**Hill 112, southwest of Caen**

The shaggy jet black-haired boy was wrapped in his blanket, and sleeping on the floorboards of the trenches. He was dreaming of his future married life with the love of his life...

It was the end of the war and they had finished high school. The boy had gotten a salary raise for his job at the pharmacy and put him on easy street. The boy and his pink-haired fiancee were married and enjoyed a quiet, private life in their home in Belleforest, California. They rarely got visitors but sometimes their friends, the boy's old commander in Normandy and his wife, a dark-haired Russian girl, would visit and recount the adventures they had on campaign in Normandy. Always they looked to their time there with a certain degree of sadness, for many good men died there with them. 'Twas a sad fact of life, the jet black-haired boy thought. People will be killed in war, always and everywhere. But still...so many good men.

The boy was aroused from his peaceful slumber by the beat of the long roll on the drums. What an ominous sound, the yawning boy thought, is the long roll to a soldier comfortably wrapped in his blanket and enjoying the sweets of sleep. The long roll was an ominous sound to every soldier as they awoke from their sleep. It meant haste. It meant preparation. A battle was iminent. The boy wrapped his blanket and put it in a cubby-hole made by himself in the trench. That way he could return to it when the battle was over. He went to his position in the trench and was greeted by one of his commander's chief lieutenants and the boy's new-found friend in this War of Liberation, Jean-Paul.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Sorel," he said smiling, tipping his black beret.

"Good morning, Jean-Paul."

"You ready for the fight today?" Jean-Paul asked, smiling. Dominic smiled in return.

"Jean-Paul, I was born ready!" The two laughed and they were joined by one of Dominic's sergeants, Philippe Bouviet (A/N: pronunciation: boo-vee-ay). Philippe was a tall gangly 16-year-old with dark hair and brown eyes who always had a smile on his face, and was recognized as Dominic's best sergeant. He had the charisma and bravery of a great soldier. Many in his platoon said among themselves that Philippe had what Frederick the Great called, "the Soul of the Lion". He was always at the ready, never one to turn and run, and never afraid to say what was on his mind. Dominic liked him. He thought, if I go down today (God forbid), he must be given command of my platoon. He's the best I have.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. My men are ready to fight today. What are your orders?" Dominic smiled at the sight of his trusted Philippe.

"Go to your post and tell the men to keep a clear eye. There are a lotta Boches coming this way. Don't fire until they are within a hundred yards. Understand?" Phillipe smiled and saluted.

"Yessir, Lieutenant." Dominic returned the salute and the two soldiers parted ways, ready to meet however many Germans came today. Jean-Paul turned to Dominic's cubby hole, where his blanket was stored.

"Lieutenant, I always wondered why you store your blanket in that little hole. Afraid someone will steal it?"

"You never know," Dominic answered, smiling. "You don't know who's gonna do what with your stuff. That's why you gotta keep it outta harm's way. I dunno 'bout you, but I don't trust those Limeys we're fightin' with. Do you?" Jean-Paul lowered his head, closed his eyes, raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Non, monsieur!" Jean-Paul said in French, knowingly.

"Those Limeys do everything by the book. War's a big game to them. It's a wonder they had the largest empire the world ever saw, the way their generals fight wars."

"Oui. Those tea-drinkers didn't even the guts to cross the channel and invade France when Napoleon was in charge! Hmph. They had a pathetic army back then. Strange though. Back then, we had the greatest army, and they had the greatest navy. That's what got them their empire. The British army couldn't even defeat the American militia back in the Revolution! If that doesn't tell you what kind of army they had, I don't know what does! They say they had a trained army, I'll give them that much, but their generals couldn't even catch Washington and destroy him." Dominic nodded. He had learned the brave stories of the militia men who were defeated one time after another by the British, how they were trained by that Prussian officer Von Stueben, how they stood up to the British at Monmouth and the battles after, how they finally won in Yorktown and helped America gain her independence.

Then he thought of Jane, that blonde-haired blue-eyed girl who always had an eye for his old chief. He remembered the story of Jane's "little game", as told by Renton one day at the pharmacy. Dominic never really liked her. She seemed very high and mighty, holier-than-thou, and was seen by many as a flirt, the "know-it-all Limey". It's a wonder she had so many friends. Then again, she was among her own kind, the popular girls. Dominic preferred his lively and habitually modest Anemone any day of the week.

"There's a Limey back home in school. Name's Jane Hart. She has kind of this thing for the Captain." Jean-Paul snickered.

"Ooh-la-la! Captain Thurston is quite the player, isn't he?" Dominic smiled and shook his head.

"He ain't like that," he laughed. "He's sort of a Puritan, if you know what I mean. Gets up early every morning, has a meager breakfast, goes to work at the pharmacy all day, then comes home to his fiancee and goes to bed early, sometimes with no supper. I sometimes get the impression that he has nothing to eat in the house. But he's very faithful to his Eureka. There's no one else he'd rather have." Dominic smiled, and dreamed for a moment, thinking of what their wedding at the cathedral might look like.

"What more is there about this Jane Hart?" Dominic shook himself up from his temporary daze and brought his head back to earth, out of the clouds.

"Not much. She's got long blonde hair, ocean blue eyes. Sort of a flirt. Very high and mighty. She's like that to every one. Even though she gets good marks, she doesn't have the same love of learning that Renton has. Whenever he brings up history, she laughs and says," He then imitated her in a high-pitched British accent, "'oh rot! Don't you love anything else, Renton?'" Jean-Paul slapped his hand on his forehead and laughed. "'What've you been up to lately? Have you been reading one of your books again?' Anyway, it's a shock that she has so many friends."

"Is she good to him?" Jean-Paul asked with a smile. Dominic smirked.

"Aw, shut up." Jean-Paul laughed, slapping Dominic on the back in comradely way. "You got someone?" Jean-Paul blushed slightly.

"Well, back home. Rosette Dumas. A nice girl. She looks a lot like Anemone. Hair's a little darker, and so are the eyes. She's sort of quiet, thinking, calm. She's strong, in more ways than one." Dominic smiled light-heartedly.

"You planning on getting married? Having any kids?"

"Maybe someday...when the war's over. I'll go back home to the farm, try to start over. Maybe have a family."

"How long have you known her?" Jean-Paul laughed.

"Don't ask. I've known her for as long as I can remember. We're almost siblings, we've known each other so long. We needn't be married! We just need to sign a form that says we're brother and sister!" The two laughed and talked for a long while before they got to the business of watching the line, turning to the front.

It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. The sun was shining brightly, casting a smile on Liberty's warriors. It seemed a sacrilege that such a day would be used by men to kill and maim each other. They looked down to the field where the Germans would come. A beautiful green Norman field, grass swaying in the wind, reflecting the early morning light. None spoke, just listened, listening for the sounds of footsteps approaching or tanks rumbling. All was quiet on Hill 112. Then they heard a noise. Dominic pulled out his set of binoculars and looked to the front. He could see Germans, lots of them, approaching the bottom of the hill. Then he could hear a rumble, fast approaching. He looked into the distance to see Panzers, Mk IVs and some Panther tanks. Dammit, he cursed. I wish war was fought as it used to be, back in the day, when there was a certain dignity with fighting and war, when men would stand in formation on open fields and fire volleys into the enemy until they gave way. To see men marching in step, shoulder-to-shoulder, towards the enemy must have been a magnificent sight. Now we fight against machines. Tanks, armored cars, self-propelled guns! It's man against machine! The worst part is that it shall be that way now always! No more days of chivalry! No more heroic fights like days of old, with flags flying, men chanting battle cries, and firing volleys! No more! No more! No more!

The Germans came closer and closer, and Dominic could see them clearer and clearer. They were the SS Hitler Youth. Boys. Just little boys. Boys, dying for a madman, a murderer, an evil dictator. Just little boys, looking to be no younger than 13 and no older than 16. Little boys! Boys forced to play the soldier! Fate has dealt a cruel hand to these little boys! Why must war turn to be like this, he thought, where we are reduced to killing little boys? Still, duty comes first. Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die. If they are killed, that is their loss. They wish to kill us, so we must kill them, before _they_ kill _us_. He then remembered a speech given to him by a paratrooper, showing him the ways of a soldier. He said to him showing a rifle, mounted with a bayonet, "When you come face to face with a kraut bastard with one of these on the end of his rifle, you better stick it in him before he sticks it in you!" Kill, or be killed. The choice was simple and easy to make. War is war, and people will always die in war. Nothing can be done to change that.

"TAKE YOUR POSITIONS!" Dominic called. All men ran to the trenches and aimed there guns to the front. He was sure there could not have been one steady hand as they raised the guns to their shoulders, but all thought were as his. There was no wavering now. All eyes were to the front as the enemy came closer, and closer, and closer. This was a testing time. They came on, coming closer and closer, but none fired. All waited for the command. Dominic could see they were now within a hundred yards. No one could withstand fire from that range. He heard Renton yell the order. Dominic soon followed it up.

"FIRE!"

In an instant Dominic's men released a tremendous volley, their rifles roaring in the Germans' faces, with the crack of a deadly thunderbolt. The effect was horrendous. The whole front line of Germans went down dead, as if by command. They stopped and hit the ground, firing at the men in the trenches as the tanks came up. The captured German Pak-38s and Pak-40s opened up with the armor-piercing rounds, tearing a whole squadron of Panzer Mk IVs to piles of burning metal. The trenches seemed to afford no cover as many men in his platoon were wounded and sent to the aid station in the bomb-proof, or simply fell to the ground dead. Dominic opened fire with his BAR, pouring a living sheet of fire at the oncoming Germans. There were so many of them that it seemed that the whole German army was coming straight at him. Panther tanks, whose armor was slightly thicker, ravaged the line, firing at the trenches, shells landing among the men, casting holes in the line. Dominic turned, and saw the men being cut to pieces by the Panthers.

"FILL THAT HOLE NOW! FILL THAT LINE IN THERE! All AT guns focus fire on the Panthers!"

The gunners of the captured German AT guns promptly followed the command, and the AT guns opened fire with the AP shells, blasting some Panthers. The line was relieved and the hole was filled. The Hitler Youths, shaken from the fierce stiff resistance, and having taken heavy casualties, fell back to the safety of the bottom of the summit. The men cheered as they fired at the retreating Germans, killing a good score of them. Dominic calmed them down.

"Steady, boys. They're gonna come back, with more men and tanks. So keep to your posts and keep a clear eye!"

"Yessir, Lieutenant!" all returned, some in French and some in English. They turned to the front and watched for any sign of another attack. Dominic checked his line, and he assessed he only suffered 5 casualties so far, reducing his number to 20 men. They were holding good. They were also good with ammunition. He checked among his men and found most still had around 40 rounds per man. But for how long would it last?

"How's it coming, Lieutenant Sorel?" He turned to see his chief Renton. He was dressed in his usual garb, before they all left America to come here and help his friend in this noble endeavor. He was wearing his usual olive green trenchcoat, brown flat cap, the color of his hair, grey knickerbockers and black socks, and clean white dress shirt. The piercing dark green eyes had a certain weariness about them, a want for the war to be over and for the Germans to be defeated. Signs of the tired old soldier within him, yearning only to return home. Dominic smiled to his old chief.

"We're doin' just fine, chief! Like hitting targets in a shooting gallery!" Renton smiled tiredly.

"Good. Hold the line no matter what, and conserve your ammunition. Don't fire 'til they get close and make every shot count." Dominic saluted his chief and the two friends parted.

That Renton, he thought. He would make a good general. He knows how to lead and strike hard. There's somethin' about him that makes him the great warrior he is. What is it? Just then Jean-Paul arrived.

"He's a bold young man, our Captain. A bold young man. Just the way he was when he led us in games of soldier when he first came here." Dominic smiled, for he knew it was true. He was a bold man. Bold and daring, yet cautious and calculating.

"You know, Jean-Paul, I sometimes wonder why he doesn't go into the army. He'd fit in perfectly. Make a good general. Lead this country to victory."

"You're right, of course. But I don't know. There's just something about him that says 'I don't want to fight.' You know what I mean?" Dominic nodded knowingly.

"He's gettin' older, but he still has that spark. He's aggressive and tenacious and yet calculating and cautious. What is that? There has to be a name for what it is."

"The skin of the fox and the soul of the lion." Dominic turned to Jean-Paul in confusion.

"What?"

"Frederick the Great said that was what made a great warrior. The skin of the fox and the soul of the lion." Dominic "ahhed" thoughtfully. Frederick the Great. One of the "Great Captains in History", as Renton once put it. He was among the great military leaders of the world. Men like Napoleon, Alexander the Great, Hannibal, Julius Caesar, Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and many others. Then another name came to Dominic as he conjured these names. Renton Thurston. The Great Captain. He might very well go down in history as one of "The Great Captains".

About ten minutes passed until someone yelled, "Lieutenant Sorel! Lieutenant Sorel!" Dominic ran to see who was shouting and found it to be Philippe, looking through a borrowed set of binoculars, pointing to his front.

"What is it, Philippe? What did you see?"

"German troops! They're moving over to the left! Can you see them, sir?" Dominic pulled out his binoculars and looked to his front. More Germans. Lots of them, coming straight at them. They were trying to turn their flank. We'll soon put a stop to that, Dominic thought.

"They're comin' again, boys!" Dominic called. "They're comin' again!" Sure enough, the Germans came charging up the hill, and they all waited for the order to fire, wanting to conserve ammunition. Dominic heard Renton yell the order at the top of his lungs, and Dominic soon replied.

"OPEN FIRE!"

In an instant all guns were ablaze, and the first rank of the attack wave went down. The fire was incessant, and the noise was almost deafening. Panzers and Panther tanks were brought up and the AT guns opened up with AP rounds, reducing many tanks to smouldering piles of metal. Dominic never stopped firing his BAR, killing Germans by the score. It seemed the whole German army was coming straight at him, him and no one else. He fired the devil. The Germans kept coming until they got to within 20 paces of the trenches, sometimes tossing potato-masher grenades into the trenches. They detonated and many men went down. Dominic was hit with a grenade shard but not hurt badly. He kept up the fire, never wavering, fired if Satan himself was coming straight at him with the whole of his army from Hell. The Germans stopped, and the firing intensified. Then he turned to his left, hearing a shout of pain and what he saw horrified him.

Philippe lay dead.

He was shot in both shoulders, and had a hole in his forehead, blood slowly seeping from the hole, running in little streams down his face, mouth open, and the eyes, pupils dilated, giving a blank, hanging stare towards the bright blue cloudless sky. Dominic dropped to the floorboards and examined his fallen comrade. He was greeted by that stare given only by the dead. Anemone came and soon took him away, further to the rear, where the shelling was less frequent.

"Give him a proper burial," Dominic said. "Mark his grave as 'Soul of the Lion'."

"What for?" Anemone asked in confusion. Dominic sighed, wanting to get back to firing, since every man was needed.

"Just do it, okay? For me?" Anemone smiled and kissed her fiance lightly.

"For you, then." The two lovers parted to tend to each other's business. Dominic went back to the firing line and poured lead into the Germans, their advance stopped cold. He yelled, cursed, and screamed at the oncoming Germans, wanting to exact revenge for Philippe. He heard Philippe's voice say, "revenge is a dish best served cold, mon Lieutenant. Do your duty. No retribution is necessary." Dominic nodded, silently agreeing with Philippe, and fired like the devil. The shooting went on and on for hours, seemingly forever. Finally, the Germans, having lost many men, fell back to the safety of the bottom of the hill, to rally and try another day, or so it seemed. The PAnzers and Panthers refused to leave, and stood firing a hail of shells, landing in and around the trenches. Many men were killed. But, after the AT guns eliminated more tanks, they too withdrew, to regroup and be reinforced. It was now time to take advantage of the momentary ceasefire. Men scavenged the dead and wounded for ammunition and weapons, for their ammunition was running very low. Dominic walked the length of his lines, checking for any holes or wounded left untended. He found a wounded man, none other than Jean-Paul.

He was bleeding from the forearm, the blood running in rivers and streams to his hand and fingers, as he tried to patch himself up while there was no shooting going on.

"Are you okay, Jean-Paul?" Jean-Paul looked to him and smiled tiredly.

"Dominic, I'll be fine in a minute." Anemone came up, and was preparing to take him away.

"Anemone will see to you." Jean-Paul shook his head violently.

"Non! Non! Non! I just need a couple minutes off my feet. My shoes are killing me." Then one of Dominic's other sergeants, a scruffy blonde-haired boy named Nathan arrived, looking very wounded.

"Lieutenant! My men are running low on ammunition. I sent a couple boys back to get some boxes that Holland brought up, but they have not come back yet."

"Strip the dead and wounded of any ammunition you can. Just pick up what you can from anywhere." Then Jean-Paul looked to his front and heard boys screaming in German.

"Here they come, Dominic!" Dominic pulled out his binoculars and looked to the front. More Germans, and more Panzers. He had to get to his position and make ready to repel this assault. He ran to his position, but was called by Anemone to wait.

"There's no where I'd rather be!" Anemone said smiling. "To think that I could have stayed home in my apartment with a good-looking stud like you!" Dominic smiled.

"You're damn right!" They ran to their places, leaving Jean-Paul alone as he raised his gun to his shoulder and waited for Renton to give the order, arm still bleeding through his bandages.

Dominic told the men to hold their fire, yelling, "Don't fire till you can see their eyes!" He waited for the order to fire. He didn't have to wait long.

"OPEN FIRE!"

All the men poured another mericiless volley into the advancing enemy. Many men went down, and the Germans ran for cover as the tanks came rumbling up. The tanks would come up first and then the infantry would follow, they reasoned. The AT guns opened fire when they got close, conserving what ammunition they had, tearing the tanks to shreds. Many still were left undamaged as they ravaged the trenches, casting huge holes in the firing line. Dominic yelled through the noise and chaos and death, encouraging his men.

"BOYS! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! SAVE YOUR AMMO FOR THE KRAUT INFANTRY!"

They did so and got down on the ground as the Panzers did battle with the dug-in AT guns. They exacted a heavy toll on the German Panzers, as the Panzers' shells landed around the AT guns, and knocking out a couple as the British brought up their AT guns to reinforce the position. The remaining Panzers were cut down and reduced to burning metal and gasoline. The German infantry, huddled behind the gully, came out of their cover and ran towards the trenches, screaming in German.They were mowed down as they came up, and came to within 20 yards of the trenches, taking down many men in the trenches. Dominic turned to see the Germans get one of them.

Jean-Paul.

As he was firing his rifle, still with his wounded arm, a shot rang out and hit his sternum, close to his heart. Dominic, scared that his friend might be dying, ran to him and tried to help him. He couldn't hear anything he said through the gunfire and chaos. He leaned closer, and heard him say his last words:

"Tell Rosette I died for my country."

With those seven words, his head went limp and his pulse stopped. He was dead. Jean-Paul, one of Renton's chief lieutenants, Dominic's new-found friend in this War of Liberation, was dead and gone. Dominic shut Jean-Paul's eyes, putting an end to the blank stare that haunted his mind. Anemone came and asked Dominic if he was okay. Dominic turned to her, looking like he was going to cry.

"What's his status, Dominic?"

"He..." He choked up a little, about to cry. "he's...he's dead. Jean-Paul is dead." Anemone took Jean-Paul's body, heading for the rear to bury him. "Wait. Mark his grave, so all can know who he is and what he died for." Anemone nodded solemnly and took the body away. He returned to the firing line, knowing he can't let his sadness get in the way of what he must do. He leveled his BAR, and fired at the Germans in his peripheral vision, killing many, grieving sllightly for Jean-Paul. He heard his voice say to him, "Give those Boches hell, Dominic. Give them hell. Make them pay for every step they take." Dominic nodded. I will, he thought. I will Jean-Paul. I'll make sure I tell Rosette. A second wave of Germans charged from column into extended line and came on, to be met by a hail of fire, but still they pressed on, until they were 15 paces away from the trenches, knocking down many in the trenches. The setting sun cast a blood-red glow in the sky, a perfect backdrop for this terrible fight. They fell dead or wounded, blood seeping from wherever they were hit, always with a last word, sometimes no words at all, someitmes jsut yelling, screaming, frightened at what would happen to them now. A fellow can't see very far in a fight, but he can see a lot when he's scared. What a din. What a variety of hideous noises. A great symphony of death, playing all around them, each man a part of this deadly scene.

The Germans eventually retreated for the last time, into the bottom of the hill, into the night, and the darkness, and the night cast a final curtain on the gruesome scene. Dead men were sprawled over the fields in front of them. Many hundreds of Germans, killed by this little platoon! How miraculous that these hardy soldier stood up to impossible odds! What a brave stand they made! But the stand had come at a devastating cost. Jean-Paul was dead, along with Philippe, and Dominic's platoon was reduced from 25 solid, seasoned veterans to 10 weary, ragged and torn survivors. The ammunition had been brought up, but the boys said there wasn't much left. If they run out tomorrow, there will be hell to pay.

Dominic went over the reports and found that the Germans beat back the 15th Scottish division, catching them on the flank, and throwing them back from the river Odon. He and the others assessed it would only be a matter of time before the salient was pinched out and the 11th Armoured would have to withdraw. Casualties were appalling. The rate today was 40 percent, reducing the 250 man force to 100. Another attack like that, and the force might very well be annihiliated. Dominic and the others left the meeting, having heard enough. He went to the graveyard, further to the rear, to see what had been done for his two dead friends today. He found two newmade graves, one marked the "Soul of the Lion" and one covered with a black beret marked "Jean-Paul Durette: He died for his country." Dominic knelt, crossing himself, praying that they be led into heaven and find peace in Paradise. They were with God's Army now. The Soul of the Lion was gone, and Jean-Paul with him. We will miss you two, Dominic said. We'll give 'em hell for you. You needn't worry about that. Not one inch of French soil will be given to those krauts. If they take this hill tomorrow, we'll make them pay for it. I promise. The Soul of the Lion will carry on in all of us.

He then strode alone into the trenches again and went into the aid station, to talk to Anemone. The wounded were still being tended to by the nurses, and he clamored his way through all the commotion and noise until he found her.

"How many today?" Dominic asked solemnly.

"Too many. Too many." Anemone hung her head and shook it slowly, looking over the heart-wrenching scene. "I just wish the war was over and we could all go home." Dominic pressed her close, resting his chin on her head.

"It can't go on forever. It's all gonna end some time. It needs to end some time." Anemone looked up into his stern grey eyes, longing to return home and enjoy a quiet private life. "How long must the killing go on?" she thought. "War is war, Anemone. I wish it could be different, but it's all hell. If we make it outta here alive, I promise you I won't make you do field drill ever again." Anemone laughed and kissed him, trying to ease his pain, make him soften up, make him forget all the death he had to see today.

"I asked someone what 'Soul of the Lion' meant, and someone told me what it is. It's courage and bravery. You have that, Dominic. If you can stand all the fighting out there, and can bear all the death, that's bravery. If that isn't the Soul of the Lion, I don't know what is." Dominic smiled and kissed her back, as a sort of "thank you." Renton then came in, bleary eyed and rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I hate to break up this little moment of yours, Lieutenant Sorel, but we both need to get back to the lines. The krauts might launch another assault tonight." Dominic and Anemone broke apart, and Dominic saluted his chief. Renton left, heading back to the trenches, to his firing post, to wait and wonder. Dominic had one last thing to say before he left.

"Anemone, wait for me. Wait for me until the fight is over. It will be over soon. I can feel it. Just wait for me." Anemone nodded sternly and kissed him goodbye.

"I'll be waiting, Dominic. I'll be waiting, my lion." Dominic smiled and left the aid station to return to his post. He pulled out the blanket from his cubby hole and wrapped himself in it, knowing, for reasons he could not understand, that the krauts won't attack tonight. They need their sleep, too, he thought. He closed his eyes as he softly repeated the four words that defined him for his actions...

Soul of the Lion. Soul of the Lion. Soul of the Lion.

_"In war, the skin of the fox is as necessary as the soul of the lion."---Frederick the Great_

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A/N: Dominic has that Soul of the Lion in the anime too, doesn't he? The way he and others stood up to Dewey is courage and bravery in and of itself. Let's be honest: everyone has that Soul of the Lion. Anyway, enough philosophical chit-chat. Here's the preview of the third and final day on Hill 112: 

_The salient is rapidly being pinched out and the Germans are closing in with more men and more tanks. The men of Jacques' force are now fighting for their lives, but the men are falling fast and ammunition is running out. A courier arrives with a report from the British headquarters. What are the orders for our motley crew? Must they stand and fight to the death, or will they be relieved and withdrawn from the hill?_

That's all for next time. Wanna see what happens? read the next chapter when it's posted, or you'll never find out. Heh heh heh heh heh.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever.


	18. Chapter 18: Retreat: Day Three

A/N: This chapter is the last day of their fight on the hill. Here's the situation: The Germans are rapdily closing in as the salient is pinched out and the men of Jacques' force begin to fall. A courier from British HQ arrives, with orders for the men. What are they? Will the men be forced to face certain death and fight, or will they be relieved and withdrawn from the hill?

Warning: Some blood and violence, and there will be character deaths in this chapter. You have been warned.

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_"War is not just a victory or a loss...people die."---Maya Lin_

**Chapter Eighteen: Retreat (Day Three)**

**June 30th, 1944**

**Hill 112, southwest of Caen**

Renton was asleep at his post until Jacques woke him up. Jacques had a hard stern and lost look on his face. There was a sense of defeat in it, that somehow they would be driven from the field and forced to retreat. He was very tired, as Renton was. Dark circles clung to his green eyes in the shapes of crescent moons. His dark hair was hanging in his face, unkempt, and matted. He looked very tired indeed. Renton looked sternly to his chief.

"What's the news, Jacques?" he asked.

"Bad news, Renton. Very bad."

"What is it?"

"The Germans are closing in. The 15th Scottish Division has retreated to its headquarters and left our left flank open to attack. I've also gotten word that the 43rd Wessex has taken heavy casualties, and they are making preparations to pull out and retreat as well." Renton looked to his men, some wounded and others staring to the front, exhausted but ready. They couldn't hold out much longer; ammunition was low, his company was reduced to 85 men, many good men had been lost, and Henri's company, once 150 men at the start, was now nothing more than a squad of 15 battered, weary souls. If they stayed, they would all be dead. He turned to his commander, and addressed him with grave seriousness.

"Jacques, do you think we should pull back?" Jacques looked to the front, lost in thought about what they should do. Should they retreat, _from their home soil_? Should they stand, and fight to the last? What should they do? Jacques looked to his second-in-command. He was tired and at the end of his rope. His trench coat was dirty around the bottom, spattered with faded earth. His shoes were muddy. His hair was unclean, matted, strands hanging in his worn face, hollow and lost. He took pity for him and his men. But still...

"Only if we get orders that tell us to retreat. Until then, all stand and fight."

"Major, my men are tired and low on ammunition. Many good men are gone. How many more must die today?"

"If they die, Captain, it is God's will. If we should die today, at least we will have died doing our duty." Renton hung and shook his head, concerned for the safety of his men. "We do what we must, Captain. That is the nature of war." Renton nodded solemnly and walked back to his firing post. "Renton?" He turned, looking him sternly in the face, thinking this might be the last time he saw him alive. Jacques saluted him. "May God go with you today."

Renton nodded and saluted wearily, turning his eyes back to the front, the green dead-strewn field, and waited for the inevitable assault. He silently recited the first two verses of Psalm 144, the soldier's prayer: Blessed be the lord, my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, my deliverer; my shield and he in whom I trust; who my subdueth people under me.

He then said a silent personal prayer. Oh, Lord, I know I have not asked much of you until now, but we are in terrible danger. There are many enemies who wish to crush us today, and I am sure many good men will fall. Please grant us the same kind providence you have given our cause, and help us win this fight and spare us of death's embrace; for if you are with us, I know we shall succeed. Make us fast and accurate. Give us the strength to win. Amen.

He then heard a noise to his front. He pulled out his binoculars and saw an awesome sight: Germans, many of them, perhaps thousands. They had brought big guns, too: Panzers, Panthers, and Tigers, the dreaded deadly Tiger tank. This was going to be a slaughter. The tanks began to move up the hill, coming straight at him. He turned to the rear and saw the AT guns, British 57 millimeter guns and what was left of the captured Pak-38s and Pak-40s. They alone would not be enough to stop those steel monstrosities. He looked around, and saw men from his company carrying bazookas. Those would give the Germans a run for their money. He ordered them up to the front, and they took up positions. All the men not armed with bazookas stood down on the floorboards, so the German tanks would pass over and spare them a deadly fire. They must save their ammunition for the infantry. The tanks rumbled up and came to within 150 yards of the trenches. Renton knew it would not do to wait another second. He turned to his bazooka crews.

"All AT guns open fire!"

He looked over the top of the trench to observe the fight. A sqaudron of Panzers exploded when the bazookas opened up. The Panthers and Tigers returned fire and ravaged the trenches, as the AT guns, further to the rear of him, opened up with what AP rounds they had left. About a squadron of Panthers and Tigers went up in flames, as the Sherman and Cromwell tanks from the 29th armoured brigade came up. The fools, he thought. Their shells wouldn't do a bit of damage unless they got to the rear of them or on their flank. He was right. Some Shermans and Cromwells scored hits, but many were simply cut to pieces by the German steel monsters. Half of the 29th Armoured's tanks were destroyed and they fell back, firing as they went. The bazooka crews fought on, but many were hit by tank shells and flung into the air like ragdolls. After two hours of fighting, his bazooka crews were dead, but many men ran and took their places, resuming fire. For a while it seemed they might hold them off, but more tanks came up. Now casualties among his men were appalling, as more men were hit as they tried to take their chances with the bazookas and as the AT guns were destroyed, one after another after another. The infantry came up and Renton, knowing his men would be cut down by the tanks, ordered his men to rise and fire into the oncoming German infantry.

The fighting lasted for hours, and Renton's men took heavy casualties, mostly inflicted by the numerous tanks now approaching the line. Men scavenged the dead and wounded for ammuniton, running low with each passing moment, but to no avail. The battle was going against his men. The infantry was now within 25 paces of the trenches and grenades were thrown into the trenches and detonated, killing many. C'mon, give me the orders, Renton thought as he fired into the oncoming Germans. Where are those orders?! Do those Limeys _want_ us to die? A British courier then came running through the trenches as the men fired wildly, as if Satan himself and his whole army was coming at them. Renton turned and saw the courier running to where Jacques was firing his Garand rifle. The courier handed him a crumpled slip of paper, and the two talked for a short while, before the two parted, only for the courier to be shot. Jacques came running to him.

"Renton! Renton! We have orders from the British headquarters!" Jacques fumbled with the paper, trying to open it up as Renton kept firing, his own ammunition running low. Jacques finally got the paper open and read the orders aloud:

_June 30th, 1944_

_Major Jacques Debusset: It has become clear to many among the British High Command that the current position we occupy, as of the beginning of Operation Epsom, has become untennable. It would be a waste of lives to continue our efforts with the current positions established. Your orders are to, along with the 11th Armoured Division, fall back from Hill 112 and rally back at original Division headquarters. You must leave all your dead and wounded behind, for if you choose to take them with you, it would be a further needless sacrifice and waste of manpower. Retreat as soon as practicable, and report to Division headquarters. _

_Yours,_

_Lieutenant General Richard O'Connor_

_GOD SAVE THE KING_

Renton did not change the expression on his face. He knew what must be done. All were to retreat. It was not a matter of honor any more, it was a matter of life or death. Jacques nodded and said, "You have your orders, Captain Thurston. Pull your men back." Renton nodded and Jacques left him. He turned to his men, still firing what ammunition they had left. They could not last much longer. For the sake of survival, they must fall back. There was no argument.

"FALL BACK!"

All commanders looked to him in a shock. He was never one to retreat. This was not like him. But soon, they turned to their men and followed up the order. Renton repeated it louder.

"FIRST COMPANY!!!! FAAAALLLL BAAACCCKK!"

The men didn't need to be told a third time. They, along with what remained of Jacques' force, left the primary firing line and headed for the rear. The Germans jumped into the trenches and ran after their retreating foes. Renton ran, firing as he went. As he went into a trench that led to the rear, a crowd of 20 yelling, screaming Germans came running at him. He quickly killed them all with a quick spray of his Thompson. Another crowd of 15 germans cam on from behind him, but he turned around and quickly killed them, too. He ran for the rear, clutching his brown flat cap yelling "RETREAT! RETREAT!" He joined his men waiting for him at the end of the trenches and climbed out, firing their last few rounds before running for their lives, off the hill and back to headquarters. As they climbed out of their cover, many went down. But no time could be wasted trying to bring the dead with them. The only option left to them was to run, and that was what they did.

Renton looked neither to his left nor to his right nor to the back of him. All he was focused on was escape. He saw through his peripheral vision many of his comrades running and others going down in the midst of gunfire. He saw Dominic in his officer's garb running, carrying his BAR with him, sometimes turning to fire a couple rounds before resuming his retreat. He saw Holland, overcoat flapping in the wind, never looking back, trying to rally his men as they were retreating, to no avail. These men, good soldiers, were completely panic-stricken and running literally for their lives. To hell with honor! To hell with country! Just leave! Run! Don't look back!

He saw Alain, clutching his kepi and his blue overcoat trailing him as he ran. Then a gunshot rang out, followed by a red flash near his neck and down he went, kepi flying into the air. Alain, calm and calculating, always ready for a fight, was now dead. Hector and Gerard, dressed in their old World War I uniforms, ran on, over Alain's body, before they went down in a hail of bullets. His two remaining platoon commanders were Dominic and Holland. All the others were dead. Nothing could be done though. The orders were not to waste time tending to the dead and wounded. The men needed to get off the hill as quickly as possible. He did not stop to tend to them, hear a last word, bid them a final goodbye, but just ran, ran as fast as he could. He saw the nurses too, running, scared mindless, and fearing capture. He saw Eureka, wearing a blue and white dress, dark hair streaming behind her, running for her life, with a look of absolute terror on her face. Anemone followed close behind, her fiery bright red hair flying like the wind. Up came Yvette, carrying her medical equipment, trying to catch up as they ran from the pursuing Germans. One could hardly concieve of the terror that possessed them. He looked over his shoulder to see Henri leading his 15 ragged survivors away from the hell of the trenches.

"FASTER MEN!" he called. "FASTER! RUN! DON"T STOP! DON"T LOOK BACK! DON"T LOOK--"

German machine guns opened up and fired, casting a hail of bullets into the retreating men. Henri was hit with a dozen bullets through the chest and went down in a second, followed quickly by his men. Henri Boyard and his company were gone. Renton turned away from the heart-wrenching scene and ran down the hill, not stopping focused only on escape, as all others were. No stopping! Just run! Run! Retreat!

»»»»»

After hours of running, they came to the 11th Armoured's headquarters, with the british huddled in little groups, completely panic-stricken. We must've run ten miles, he thought. He stopped to rest, head against a tree. He panted, breathing heavily. That was pure hell. If they never go back to that damned hill, it's all the same to them. He regained his strength after 20 minutes and searched for his men. He soon found them. There were not many left. Dominic and Holland were alive, along with all the nurses. His force, once 150 magnificent soldiers, the best company in the whole force, was now cut down, brought down to less than 60 weary survivors. And the part that made it more difficult to bear was...they were the only ones Jacques had left. When they arrived on the hill, they were a grand force of 300 men, a sight to behold. Now, only three days later, all that were left were 60 half-starved, exhausted, weary ragamuffins. It is horrible. Horrible. He turned away, shedding a tear for every man they lost on that hill. Jean-Baptiste Turat. Jean-Paul Durette. Philippe Bouviet. Henri Boyard. Alain. Hector. Gerard. His heart went out to them as he looked to the horizon. He saw the hill, strewn with the bodies of many, all good friends from years past. He spat into the ground, cursing the hill. If I never see you again, he thought, I will live a happy life. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and the sky, once a bright blue on that day they charged up, with spirits high and confidence swelling, now turned a faded blood-red, drawing a final curtain on this deadly, gruesome and bloody fight. Operation Epsom was offically over, and morale was low. They had failed, and the ordinary soldier knew not why nor how. All looked to their captain, thinking maybe he had the answer. He knew not. All he knew was he would never be the same again.

_"Someday they'll give a war and nobody will come."---Carl Sandburg_

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A/N: That is true to history. Operation Epsom ended in a bloody stalemate, with no gains made. Renton is now shaken from seeing so many good friends die, and all take pity on him. Here's a preview... 

_With the operation over, the British will spend weeks trying to regain their strength and find a new strategy. Renton's resolve, as well as everyone else's, is shaken after the debacle on Hill 112. Jacques gives them all a choice, and Renton an opportunity._

That's all I can give, but I will say that the chapters after next will have fluff abound. Until we meet again, read and review. Hope you're all likin' it so far.

Signed

Renton and Eureka Forever


	19. Chapter 19: The Old Weary Soldier

_"Old soldiers never die; they just fade away."---Douglas MacArthur_

**Chapter Nineteen: The Old Weary Soldier**

**July 1st, 1944**

**11th Armoured Division headquarters, outskirts of Caen**

Morale was low. Very low. The men, along with Renton, Dominic, Holland, the nurses, and Jacques had "mutinied" against the British High Command. They refused to fight in any more operations until either there was new leadership or Caen had been captured. All had lost confidence in the British generals, or the "tea-drinking gentlemen officers" as they all called them. Those Limeys were not fit to command, they thought. They treated war as a game, one big game. All thought O'Connor and Montgomery were fools. They thought real soldiers should be in charge. Americans. They knew how to fight and how to win. If someone like George Patton was at the helm, then maybe this seige would be over with quicker, they thought. All hated those Limeys, and wanted out.

Renton walked among the camps, seeing the sad scene of the state of his men. They all cleaned their rifles, or lay on the ground, demoralized, and broken. His heart went out to every one of them. As he walked through the camps, many eyes turned to him, eyes glistening with welled up tears, with the faces of broken-hearted old men. On each expression was asked that heart-wrenching question, "Why? Why did we lose? Do you know, Captain, why we lost?" He knew not how to answer, and that burdened his heart greatly. He walked to a vacant circle of logs, and sat, staring into space, lost in his grief for the friends he lost in the botched operation. Their names repeated in his head, through no action of his own: Jean-Baptiste Turat, the boy-turned-soldier. Jean-Paul Durette, always itching for a fight. Alain, bold and cautious. Phillipe Bouviet, the Soul of the Lion. Hector and Gerard, calm and calculating. They were dead and gone. He heard a harmonica strike up a sad tune, disheartening him more. None were intent on doing any more fighting.

"Have you walked among our camps this evening, chief?" Renton turned to see Dominic, with a saddened, lost, and broken look on his hollow face. He lost his right-hand man Philippe Bouviet and his platoon was almost gone, reduced to a squad of eight weary men.

"I have indeed, Dom. It wears heavy on my heart to see the men in such a broken state after these three days' sorry affairs. Dominic, our ranks are devastated. The British offensive has failed. I fear we must return home and save what is left of this force."

"Chief, I've asked my men what they think of the idea of going home, and they all have said that they want to stay and fight, until we reach Paris. They want to go home, but they don't want to give up. I've talked with the others, Renton, and they are all intent on staying. We won't leave you, chief. Not until the job is done." Renton nodded, but said nothing. Many were dead and gone, and what was left of the force had had all they could stand. All were weary and lost. "Renton, our men have accomplished all they had in their power to achieve." Renton nodded solemnly, down-hearted by the sorry state of his men.

"They have indeed, Dominic. This failure was not theirs."

"No, sir!" Dominic said firmly. "It is O'Connor's failure, and his alone."

"You and I and all the other commanders are as just as much to blame for what happened," Renton said matter-of-factly.

"Renton, there is nothing we could have done to change what happened. The Germans fought back and there were too many. That was it." Renton nodded. "Renton, let us first look to our commands, and try to replenish our depleted ranks. This seige shall go on." Renton nodded as a small tear ran down his cheek, his heart going out to his men who had to suffer so much in this horrible fight.

"Yes, Dominic. That is what burdens my heart the most. This seige will indeed go on." Dominic patted him on the shoulder, trying to buck him up and gather what resolve was left in him. His heart went out to his old chief; he was tired and broken, wanting for a chance to try again, as all were.

"Renton...you matter to me, and to others as well...through all your victories and all your defeats. Nothing will ever replace the men we lost on that hill. But we can justify their sacrifices. Take care of yourself, chief, and take it easy." He left him, to try gather himself and regain what spirit was left. He's getting older, Dominic thought. He's a lot older than he lets on. There comes a point where the old soldier loses his charisma and wishes to pick up the rifle no more. He walked through his camp and came upon Anemone, looking very concerned.

"How is he?"

"He's getting older, Anemone. Every passing minute." Anemone looked confused.

"Older? What's that supposed to mean?" Dominic sighed, exhausted and lost.

"He's just gettin' older. He's a lot older than he lets on, Anemone. I think it's something none of us have come to understand yet."

"But he's young, and so are all of us. We're in the prime of our lives." Dominic smiled wistfully and shook his head.

"He's older up here..." he tapped his head, "...and here." He pounded his chest. "He's just getting older. He's got that disease. He's older in the head and in the heart." Renton rose from the log and walked through the camps again, not looking at anyone. All eyes turned to him when he walked through, looking in sympathy for their lost commander. He strode alone to the edge of the camp, looking towards the horizon, where that damned hill was. He hung his head down and sighed, as the 60 men of Jacques' force crept closer, eyeing their captain. He looked on, looking lost and shaken. So many men lost. Three days before, they went up that hill brimming with confidence, 300 strong. They now were camped around headquarters, reduced less than 60 weary souls. His dearest friends from years past lay dead on that hill. There are periods in every man's life when the concentrated sorrows and bitterness of years seemed gathered into a few short days and nights of agony. In 72 hours, 60 percent of Renton's entire command had been swept away. Four of his six platoon leaders, all of them good friends, lay dead on the field. He had been in fierce action before: in Stalingrad, in Carentan, at Hill 30 and in those damned woods. But in no other battle did he ever witness so many harrowing scenes as he did at Hill 112. He shook his head, his heart going out to all in his weary company. The men heard him whisper something.

"It's my fault."

All then rose in cries, saying, some in French, some in Russian, some in English, "No! No! No!" He turned to them, eyeing the weary men with a heavy heart.

"Boys, it's all my fault."

"No! No, mon capitaine! Non!" They returned. He raised a hand, listening to their cries, the sadness and weariness building inside him.

"Hear me! Hear me, please, boys. We must rest now. We must rest and prepare to fight again another day, and there _will_ be another day!" They all nodded and mumbled in agreement with him. "Boys, let us rest, but always do this for me: _never_ let them see your pain."

"Never! Never!" they chanted.

"_Never_ let them see you run."

"Never! Never!" Paul, clutching his ragged and bullet-riddled _tricolour_, stepped out and spoke.

"Mon capitaine, let us try again! Let us reform and hit them again! I know we can do it!" All nodded and cheered in agreement. Renton smiled wistfully and shook his head, and went to see Jacques, as he listened to his men cheering him, raising their rifles in a sign of respect. He even heard Dominic's voice call, "God bless you, chief!" Jacques came to him, with a concerned look on his face.

"How are you, Renton?" Renton was silent. He only looked at him. He couldn't even speak, he was so tired and demoralized. "Renton, I know you are tired like the rest of us. We all feel for you, Renton. That is why I'm giving you something." Renton didn't change his expression, only staring at him with a blank face. He was at a loss of what to do, with his command devastated. "I'm giving you two weeks leave. Try to gather yourself, take some edge off. I think you need it. We _all_ think you need it."

"Jacques, will we be in any more fighitng around here? I don't know if I can take part in another operation."

"We all know how you feel, Renton, and I don't blame you. Those damned tea-drinking generals don't know how to fight a real war. You know my views on the subject. I have already put forth my sentiments to the British High Command, and I have made it clear that we will not be engaged in any more _British-led_ fighting. If there was an _American_ at the helm, I would cheerfully take part in any operation." Renton smiled. These damned British generals don't know how to fight a real war, he thought. They fight like war was a chess game. Not like Patton. He knew how to fight hard.

"I don't know if we'll be taking part in _any_ more operations, the way we're 80 percent understrength."

"I'll go around the villages and try to get new recruits. One of your officers can drill them."

"Have Dominic train them. He's knows how to drill; he has his fiancee do field drill out on the front lawn of his apartment." Jacques laughed quietly.

"Very well. Dominic will train the men. Renton, I don't want you to think about things like this for a while. I just want you to relax, and try to take a load off your mind." Renton nodded solemnly and thoughtfully. "Renton, I've talked with your fiancee, and I've allowed her to go with you." Renton didn't change his expression, but only looked at him and blinked. Jacques smiled. "Love is the best medicine for a weary heart." Renton smiled slightly, weary and worn. Jacques pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. He then handed it to Renton. "There are some people I know around here. One of them owns an inn in Cheux, some ways north from here. This is the address." Renton read the note:

_L'auberge de La Belle France_

_496 Rue de Labrador_

"The man I know is named Pierre," Jacques continued. "Tell him that Jacques sent you and he'll make an arrangement for you two." Renton nodded thoughtfully. "Take care, Renton, and try to take it easy." Renton smiled and nodded.

"Merci, Jacques."

"De rien, Renton. Try to relax, mon ami." Renton smiled and nodded. They shook hands and embraced, bidding each other a "goodbye for now", and parted. Renton shoved the note into his trenchcoat pocket and returned to the camp. Dominic and Holland and the nurses were waiting.

"You talk to Jacques?" Dominic asked solemnly. Renton nodded slowly. "It'll do you some good, chief. You need it."

"Try to rest up, Renton," Holland said quietly. "It'll do you a world of good. I think after what happened, you really need it. We all think so." Renton smiled as sort of a "thank you", but he did not utter a word. He was so tired and war-weary he couldn't talk.

"Stay strong, Renton," Anemone said comfortingly. "We've been through hell and now we need you more than ever. Keep strong." Renton nodded sagely, not saying anything. He got the impression all knew what he would say to each of them.

"Renton," Eureka asked kindly, "did Jacques tell you I'm coming with you?" Renton nodded, his lips pursed, staying silent and unmoving. "We can relax. We need it after all that's happened."

"Love's the best medicine, chief," Dominic added, smiling. "Take my word for it." Anemone and Dominic smiled at each other then turned to Renton, who was leaving. He motioned Eureka to follow, shoving his hands into his trenchcoat pockets and walking to the road, that would lead them north. They all needed a vacation from this mess. Holland and the others would do fine, he needn't worry about them. Just try to get your mind off of all that. Renton and Eureka reached the road and turned left, walking up the road, towards Cheux, where they could have some peace and quiet. At last, in this long fight, they had a chance to rest. Eureka looked to her fiance, as they walked along the road. He seemed deep in thought, depressed and brooding. The eyes were glassy, looking lost, as they usually were whenever something bad had happened to him. His hair was ragged dirty and unkempt; he had been asleep in the trenches amidst the dirt and the assaults and possibilities of night attacks had kept him from tending to his wild hair. His mouth was pursed tight and still, not uttering a word. He was so tired. Tired of war, tired of death, tired of tea-drinking generals, tired of the intensity of battle and tired of all the burdens placed on him. He needed a break from this mess. Desperately. She took pity on him, and left him alone, giving him time to think and to regain his strength. He would be talking by tomorrow, she thought. Let him rest. Let him be. He'll recover, and stand strong again, just as he always has.

_"Do not dishonor the old: we shall all be numbered among them."---Bible: Ecclesiastics 8:7_

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A/N: I feel sad for Renton, don't you? Well, as the saying goes, "time heals all wounds." And love always heals. The next few chapters will be covering the two weeks' leave, and there will be a lot of fluff and intimate moments between our two young lovers. Stick around. You don't wanna miss it. As always read and review, and put out some ideas of some stuff you'd like to see. I'm open to any and all suggestions. JA! 

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	20. Chapter 20: Arrival and Arrangement

A/N: I first wish to thank Guardian of the Hell Gate for giving me the inspiration for this and the next chapter. Your inspiration has shaken me from my writer's block, and now I'm buzzing with ideas again! Thank you. I'll be comin' to you with any more suggestions I have. Anyway, here's the chap. Hope you like it.

* * *

_"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."---Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

**Chapter Twenty: Arrival and Arrangement**

**July 2nd, 1944**

**L'auberge de La Belle France, ****Cheux, France**

The dark-haired, dark green-eyed American boy and dark-haired grey-eyed Russian girl arrived in Cheux and found the address, after hours of wandering through the streets. They walked, hand in hand, through the door of the inn. A bell jingled as they walked through the little lobby to the front counter. It was a quaint little inn, filled with 18th century style furniture and paintings of famous Frenchmen. Louis XIV. Charlemagne. Napoleon. Charles DeGaulle. They approached the front counter and saw a young man with auburn hair and green eyes, about 19, approach the desk.

"Bonjour, monsieur et madame. Comment allez-vous?"

"Tres bien," Renton replied. "Merci."

"Do you have a reservation?"

"No sir. A friend sent us. Jacques Debusset?"

"Oh, I know him. Comes from further west. St-Come-du-Mont. You are a friend of his?"

"Yes." The man, Pierre, smiled and opened a drawer searching for a key to give the two weary travelers.

"Where do you come from, monsieur?"

"America." Pierre stopped and eyed the two, wide-eyed. He had heard of these two before. Was this boy the American Jacques had made friends with four years ago? Was this the boy who always loved to play soldier with him and the others from the village? The boy who grieved at leaving, and pledged one day to return? Has he really come back?

"Are you...Renton Thurston?" Renton and Eureka looked at each other, slightly confused.

"Yes. Are you Pierre?" Pierre smiled wide and nodded.

"Jacques has told me a lot about you! Well, if you are the American that Jacques always talks about, then you are more than welcome here! Who is your lady friend?" Eureka smiled blushed slightly in embarrassment.

"This is my fiancee, Eureka Novakova." Pierre cast a smirk and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I see." He laughed quietly as he searched the open drawer for a key. He soon found one. "You two will be on the third floor. You will have a wonderful view of the whole village."

"Good, good. How much do I owe you?" Pierre chuckled.

"Quoi? Pour vous? Nothing, monsieur! Any friend of Jacques is welcome here!" Pierre shook Renton's hand firmly, smiling, handing them the key. "Good to finally meet you, Monsieur Thurston." Renton smiled, tipped his hat and led Eureka up the stairs to the third floor. They turned the key and entered their room. It was beautiful.

The room was open and expansive, with a cushioned rocking chair in the corner, a small set of chairs with an oak table, and a small red sofa. They looked to find a bed, spread with satin sheets, and tall curtains to conceal any who slept in that comfortable spread. They looked out the window, and saw the whole village.

There was a fountain in the village square, where children played with their toy tops, or skipped rope. Others sat on benches in the square, either watching their children with an affectionate smile or reading the paper, hopiing for some good news. Surrounding the squares were little shops: A bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread flowing through its doors. A bookstore, where many entered to sit chat and read whatever was in the news today. A cafe, where dozens of people sat under umbrellas, sipping wine or eating some French cuisine. Over the numerous roofs of houses and shops, there stood a church with a tall steeple, topped with a golden cross. It seemed that it had been laid out just for them. There was an opportunity for them.

"It's all that Jacques said it would be," Eureka said quietly, looking out. "Small, quiet, peaceful. Don't you like it Renton?"

"It's more than I could have wanted." He turned to Eureka, staring in her grey eyes. "It's beautiful, but...nothing is as beautiful as you, Eureka." Eureka blushed and kissed him, as Renton ran his fingers through her soft brown hair. This was forever. There were no shells, no bullets, no call to the trenches to stop them. This was forever.

"Renton? That church over there..." Renton looked to the church and knew in an instant what she was getting at.

"You want to get married, Eureka? Right now?" Eureka shook her head and smiled.

"No. I'm too tired after our long walk. Tomorrow?" Renton smiled. This was an opportunity he would not let pass.

"Tomorrow, bright and early. I'll talk to Pierre and make an arrangement." Eureka smiled and kissed him again, curling her arms around his neck as he curled his around her waist, pulling each other in, with more passion. Her kiss was sweet, candy, though he never really liked candy. Thought it poisoned the mind. But this...that was the best "candy" he ever had. They broke off, breathing heavy for a lack of oxygen. Renton put a finger to her lip, and went for the door to talk to Jacques.

"I'll be back. I just have to talk to Pierre." Eureka smiled.

"I know you'll come back. I'll get to unpacking." Renton kissed her lightly and left, heading down the stairs to talk to Pierre. Pierre sat at the counter, seemingly waiting for him.

"Pierre, could you do something for me?" Pierre smiled kindly, seeminglky knowing what he was going to ask.

"Just name it, Renton."

"Eureka and I have been engaged for more than a year now. I promised her that we would get married when the seige in Caen was over, but...there is a church in this village and I was wondering if you could make an arrangement for us." Pierre laughed. He often got engaged couples who wanted to get married at that church.

"Renton, of course I will. When do you want to get married?"

"As soon as possible. Tomorrow morning at the earliest. By the way...what denomination is the chuch?

"Calvinist. Why you ask?"

"It's just that we're Protestant, so..." Renton had an awkward look on his face. He wated this to be just right.

"We are all equal in the eyes of God, Renton," Pierre said in understanding. Renton smiled as did Pierre. Pierre picked up a black telephone and called the church. There followed a long bout of talking back and forth in French, some of it he couldn't quite understand. Different dialect, he thought. Renton all the while stood patiently waiting for what would happen. The marriage would be private, he thought. He didn't like the idea of a crowd of people seeing him with his Eureka. She was his, and he didn't like to display her. He hung up and turned to Renton, smiling.

"Everything is set, Renton. Father Morand will see you two tomorrow morning at eight o'clock." Renton nodded and smiled. He started to go, but Pierre stopped him. "How is Jacques, Renton?"

"As best as he can be. He's leading 300 Resistance fellows...or at least he was."

"What happened?"

"Those damn tea-drinking British generals don't know how to fight a real war. They made us go on up to the hill southwest of Caen and we were up there for three days, but that damn O'Connor didn't bring up reinforcements. There were too many Germans, and we retreated, with only a fraction of our original force." Renton shut up instantly. He didn't want to be reminded of that debacle on Hill 112. "Now we're just trying to regain our strength."

"You're with him?"

"I command, or commanded, a force of 150 men until they pulled us off. All that's left of the force is 60 men." Renton really wished he'd stop talking about it. He wanted to forget all that. "I try not to think about what happened on that damned hill." Pierre noddded sagely, in understanding for a weary soldier. "I've been given two weeks' leave, so I'll be here for a while." Pierre nodded in understanding.

"Rest now, Renton. You'll need it." Renton nodded slowly and walked up to the third floor and back to his room, where Eureka was waiting.

"Eureka, it's all set. We'll be married in the morning. We are to go to the church at eight o'clock, where a priest will be waiting." Eureka, gasped, and clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to realize what he had just said. They were to be wed tomorrow morning! Tomorrow, they would start their married life! She ran to Renton and embraced him, knocking him off his feet and the two of them landing on the floor, half outside and half inside the room. She kissed him deeply, absolutely overomce with joy at the news.

"Oh, Renton!" Renton wrapped his arms around her, and returned her kiss, happy that she was happy and content in the knowledge that tomorrow they would be married.

"Eureka..."

"I couldn't be happier. I can't believe we're actually going to be married! It's almost unbelievable. I love you so much, Renton! I don't want you to leave, ever!"

"I'll never let you be alone, Eureka. I'll never leave you." Eureka smiled as the two of them rose from the ground and went to the open expanse of the living space of the room. Renton sat a rocking chair, staring at the love of his life, rocking himself to sleep, trying to rest up for tomorrow's occasion and trying to imagine what his new married life would look like. A home. A family. A loving wife. A child. A new life...with his wife-to-be, Eureka Novakova.

_"At one glance I love you with a thousand hearts."---Mihri Hatun_

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A/N: Well, the matter is settled. They will be wed in the morning. Stick around for the next chapter which will be the wedding ceremony and the talk the two have afterward. Here's a preview... 

_Despite their longstanding friendship and love, the two lovers are quite the opposites. Renton knows everything about his Eureka, but Eureka knows so little about him. Now, with the wedding over, and the two officially married, Renton decides to come out to his love and tell her all about his past, something he has kept locked up in his heart for a long while..._

Keep a clear eye for the next chap, as it will be filled with intimate moments between our two young lovers. Until the next time we meet...so long until then! If you have any suggestions for things you'd like to see, don't hesitate to put it forth in your review. All ideas are greatly appreciated and will be considered.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	21. Chapter 21: Do You Want to Know a Secret

_"Nothing can be either loved or hated unless it is first understood."---Leonardo Da Vinci_

**Chapter Twenty-one: Do You Want to Know a Secret?**

**July 3rd, 1944**

**Cheux, France**

Renton and Eureka stood at the altar of the little Calvinist church, dressed in their usual clothes, except Renton had taken off his trenchcoat and wore a clean white dress shirt with grey knickerbockers, black long socks and brown shoes. Eureka was wearing her blue and white dress, her hair tied back into a ponytail, looking into the piercing dark green eyes of her future husband. There was no one in the whole church. Just the two of them and the priest, and the couple were happy to have it that way. They didn't like the idea of crowd staring at them as they were wed. The priest, decked in white and wearing a violet ribbon with an embroidered cross on either end, blessed the young couple, saying quietly in French, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit...", saying soft nothings as the couple crossed themselves at the mention of the Trinity. Finally came the moment to seal the marriage. The priest turned to Renton first and asked him in French.

"Renton Thurston, do you do you take Eureka Novakova to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love and honor her in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, 'til death do you part?" Renton looked in Eureka's eyes, those grey eyes which showed love and kindness. There was no one he would rather be married to.

"Yes, I will," he said in French. The priest then turned to Eureka.

"Eureka Novakova, do you take Renton Thurston to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love and honor him in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, 'til death do you part?" Eureka looked into Renton's eyes, slightly tearful, and smiled. She loved him so much, there was no need for an answer.

"Yes, I will."

The priest raised his hands towards the heavens, and said, "Then by the power vested in me in our mutual faith in the Lord, our God, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Renton turned to his newlywed wife and kissed her deeply, sealing forever their union. Eureka threw her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, overcome with the almost astonishing fact that they were now married. The priest then said a prayer, as the wedded couple broke apart and knelt, joining in the prayer.

"Lead us not into temptation o Lord. Bless these two young people with a longstanding union and may their lives be filled with your great love. Amen."

"Amen," the two replied. They then rose and thanked the priest, saying, "You made us the happiest people in the whole world." The priest smiled and blessed them, saying, "go forth and may the eyes of God always watch over you."

The two then left the church, waving goodbye to the priest and heading into the town to celebrate their marriage. They reached the fountain and sat on a bench, people-watching. There were little children running and playing, some throwing coins into the fountain, making a wish. There were men and women, young and old, eyeing their children at play, with smiles on their faces. The smiles of God. Eureka looked to Renton, untying her hair and let it flow over her shoulders, smiling with the exuberance that comes after a wondrous event. Renton did not meet her gaze. He sat hunched over, hands clasped together, looking out on the happy scene, his lips pursed, eyes brooding, contemplating something. Eureka slung an arm over her newlywed husband and pressed close to him, whispering in his ear.

"What's the matter, Renton? Aren't you happy now that we're married?"

"I am," he said solemnly. "I just got a lot on my mind." Eureka smiled and nuzzled him.

"Isn't that the reason Jacques let you go on leave? How you have too much on your mind?" Renton smiled wistfully.

"Nothing of the _military_ nature, Eureka. I'm on strict orders not to think about those things. Somethin' else is bothering me."

"What, darling?" she cooed. Renton turned to her, his piercing dark green eyes looking lost, wanting to tell her things he never told anyone else, things he kept locked up in his heart. Things about him no one ever knew, because he was always unwilling to answer.

"Eureka, we've known each other for a long time. I know virtually everything about you. But I've come to realize now that I've never told you much about _myself_." Eureka thought for a moment, and realized he was right. She understood how he acted, how he behaved, what "turned him on" and "off", what was the best way to talk to him, and things like that, but nothing really about _him_. She never asked back in the day when they were still young and childish, because back then, he seemed very awkward and somewhat moody, and she was always afriad that asking him about his family might offend him.

"You're right, you know. You've never told me much about yourself. What stopped you? Were you afraid of what I might say?" Renton shook his head.

"It had nothing to do with _you_, darling. I swear. The things I didn't tell you...I've never told anyone. It was a principle of mine. I never really told anyone about me or my family..._especially_ about my family." Eureka stared at him, knowing what he was going to say next. "Eureka, now that we're married, we should know everything about each other. I know a lot about you, and I think it's time I return the favor."

"Tell me everything, Renton. Tell me the whole truth. Tell me all you can." Renton pulled himself up, dragging Eureka up by the hand.

"Let's go back to the inn, first. Then I'll give you my whole story." They got up and walked hand-in-hand back to the inn. Pierre greeted them with a smile.

"How are the newlyweds this fine day?" The two smiled as best they could wanting to talk things over.

"After today," Eureka said happily, "everything is wonderful!"

"How can it be otherwise," Renton said in support, "when you're married to the love of your life?" Eureka smiled and kissed Renton gently, as the two went up to their room.

"Have a good afternoon, happy people!" Pierre called out happily. The two lovers reached their room and they spread themselves out on the bed, on top of the satin sheets, staring into the others' eyes.

"Just ask," Renton said softly, "and I will tell. Just tell me what you want to know." Eureka looked up into his eyes, with the look of a child's pure innocence and trust. She had so many questions to ask him. Where to begin?

"Renton," she began innocently, "Out of your parents I've always seen only your father. I've never seen your mother. Not in Russia nor back home in America. Where is she?" Renton's eyes grew sadder. He remembered in an instant that cheerful face, the tired smile, and the las words on her dying breath.

"Eureka...my mother is dead. Has been for nine years." Eureka's eyes widened. His mother...dead. That explains why he was so moody, she thought. But still...dead. Dead. The word repeated in her head. It struck her so.

"Renton, how did your mother die?" Renton sighed, and Eureka thought for a moment he wa going to cry. He gulped and began uneasily.

"My mother died...when I was nine years old. Our family physician looked her over told us the bad news. She had the cancer. Bad. Tumor was on her spinal cord, and she was paralyzed from the waist down. We tried everything. We took her to the nearest hospital in Belleforest. We told them to operate right then and there. They looked her over, but they told us...there was nothing they could do. The tumor was malignant, and..." he choked a little as he said the next part, "She was going to die at the end of the month. We took her back home, and we tried to...make her time remaining as bearable as possible. She was in a terrible, terrible amount of pain when she died. I remember...just before she died, she looked me in the eyes, with an absolute look of calm, and told me, 'I will always be proud of you, son, whatever you decide to do with your life.'. Then she died." Renton closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying recover that horrible memory, that memory that didn't want to leave.

"What was she like, Renton?" she asked, with the innocent look in her eyes that he fell in love with. Renton thought for a moment, then turned to her again.

"She was very beautiful, very kind. Had...blonde hair, blue eyes...a wonderful smile. She was a very intelligent woman. She gave me all of her books before she got cancer. She wanted me to train my mind. But besides that...I don't know what else besides that. She died when I was only nine, so..." Renton sighed quietly. "...I don't really remember that much about my mother." Eureka cocked her head slightly confused.

"Why?"

"Don't know," Renton said solemnly. "Just can't." Eureka chose not to press the matter further, and instead tried to think of another question. There were so many things about him she wanted to know.

"Renton, you say you used to live on a farm. What happened that made you decide to move into town?"

"Well, before the Crash of 1929, we got on fairly well on the farm, planting sunflowers and wheat and soy. But then...the stock market crashed, and we were hit hard. The crops we took to market were now almost worthless, and we had a run on our bank, and we took everything we had. But it wasn't enough to get by on just the farm. We had to sell it. We sold it, took the money, and headed south, to where the jobs were. Father got a job at the steel works, and later Willie got ajob there too, and that brought in some money before Pearl Harbor happened."

"Go on," Eureka said. She was eager to hear more.

"Well, of course afer Pearl Harbor, Father signed up. He went into the Marines to fight in the Pacific. Willie quit his job at the steel mill and went ot work at Marinship, down in Sausalito, where he works now as a welder. So that's what happened. Anything else you want to know?"

"Yes, Renton. There is so much more."

They talked for a long while, through the afternoon, and past sunset into the night. She learned much from him. What made him come to Russia and Europe, how his father believed Renton should see the world before it became a battlefield, how he met Jacques, how he used to play soldier with him and the others from the neighborhood, and how, after Pearl Harbor, he could have went to live with his grandfather Axel in Sonoma, but chose to stay in Belleforest and take care of himself. They talked on and on into the night, until they bathed and changed into night clothes to sleep. Even then, Eureka still a few more things to ask him.

"Renton..." she said timidly in the dim-lit room, "have you ever loved anyone before?" Renton thought for a moment. He remembered that girl he had an eye for in middle school, when he was little more than twelve, before he went away. That "Estella". The ice princess. He shuddered in disgust at the thought of her.

"Off and on. Not totally. There was one girl...back when I was twelve, before Father and I went away. I can't really remember her name, now, but she looked a lot like you. Dark hair was slightly shorter than yours, and she had brown eyes. But she's nothing...nothing compared to you, Eureka." Eureka smiled and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek and drew closer, listening to him. "She was very high and mighty. Didn't really care for me, not the way you and I do. She shoved me aside whenever I tried to woo her, and...I didn't love anyone since then. Not until you said it to me that night."

"Renton, what made you not want to love again?"

"After that bout I had with that girl, I thought matters of the heart never lasted long, and it always ended badly, so I swore it off. To tell you the honest truth, when I first took you in, and the way you always showed your affection, I wasn't sure. I was never sure. That damn principle stuck to me, but..." he then took her soft cheek in his hand, and drew himself closer, "that night, when you said you loved me...well...I learned how to love all over again. You taught how to love again, and I thank you for that, Eureka." He slowly kissed her, as she wrapped her arm around his neck, and his hands slowly drawing around her waist. He loved his wife so. She was really the only family he had left. Most of the others were gone. She and all his friends were the only family he had left. She, especially. He valued her above all the others. None could surpass her. "Eureka, it would mean everything to me if I had any family, but you're my only family now. You're all I've got. Most of my family is gone. The moment that I lose you, that's the moment I lose everything."

Eureka, seemingly in response to Renton's confession, caressed his cheek and kissed him deeply, easing him up, and trying to melt away all the sadness he had for digging up old memories, long locked up in his heart. They wrapped their arms around each other and held each other tightly, never wanting to let go. It had been tough unlocking and uncovering old memories he would rahter have buried, but it was worth it. They were married, and they should know everything they could about each other. They fell asleep in each other's arms, as the lights in the town went out and moon rose higher into the sky, casting a long beam on the town and through the window, lighting up the room with a soft glow, a light of God, smiling on the two sleeping newlyweds.

_"For me, to live without hate is easy, for I have never felt hate. To live without love I think is impossible, happily impossible, for each one of us."---Jorge Luis Borges_

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A/N: Well. They're finally married. I gues all of you are cheering and yelling "about time!" Ha ha. Anyway, the next chaps will sort of look at a few particular days in their two weeks' leave, talking over key issues, and talking over what they might do with their future married llife. Here's a preview. 

_On the Fourth of July, the married couple do not join in festivities of American soldiers in the town, but instead talk with each other about what they are fighitng for and why..._

You don't want to miss it. Until next time!

R&E 4ever


	22. Chapter 22: Why We Fight

_"You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you."---Leon Trotsky_

**Chapter Twenty-two: Why We Fight**

**July 4th, 1944**

**Cheux, France**

The detachment of American soldiers in the town were celebrating in the streets at the 168th anniversary of the formation of their country. Many gathered in the town square, simply cheering and yelling, sometimes firing their rifles into the air before the officers gave them a hard talk. Many were in the cafe, being treated to traditional French food and free wine from the owner of the cafe. A boy and a girl, recently wed, stared out the window of an inn, eyeing the scene of exuberance and joy with a less excited mindset.

"They all seem so happy," Eureka said looking out on the pleasant scene.

"Yeah, I guess so," Renton said solemnly with a sad look on his face. "Y'know, Eureka, this day is supposed to be the birthday of our country. Usually, I'd feel happy and I'd want to get out there and join those soldiers and celebrate but...I don't want to. I don't know why." Eureka placed a hand on his shoulder and looked to him in deep concern and comfort.

"You're just tired," she said. "Tired. That is it." Renton turned to her with a solemn lost look in his eyes.

"No," he said gravely. "It's far more than that. Eureka, why are you fighting this war?"

"I'm fighting because you are fighting, Renton. I went with you because I wouldn't let you go alone. Neither would Holland." Renton held her soft cheek and smiled wistfully.

"Eureka, if you're fighitng because I am, then I have to know why I'm fighting. I came to help my friends here, but already so many of them are gone. Alain, Jean-Paul, Hector, Gerard, Henri, Jean-Baptiste, Philippe..." He hung his head and shook it in sorrow, relaying the names in his head, "and...Charles and Ray. All gone. The only friends I have left to protect here are Paul and Jacques. When I lose them, I lose the reason why I came here." Eureka placed a finger to his lips and shook her head.

"Renton...we are here for a greater reason too. Those soldiers out there. Why are they fighting?" Renton looked out to the cheering soldiers, thinking that many of them might never again set foot on their home country, never again see the faces of their loved ones. All must have wives, families. Any of them could be his next door neighbor.

"They are fighting because...they think their country needs them. Because they are ashamed not to. They need to destroy Nazism, defeat Hitler. Save the free world, and all that. But...how long can that talk of defending your country go on until it starts to lose merit?" Eureka was slightly shocked. He, who always said it was important to defend your country when called upon, he who was as ardent a patriot as she.

"Renton. It never loses its merit. You've said so yourself. Duty to God and country never withers away." Renton nodded, seeing how he had just spoken out against something he always spoke for. "Renton, you know what I think those men are fighting for?" Renton looked to her, his eyes glistening, thinking how he might never see his home again, thinking how he might never see his friends again. Moondoggie. Matthieu. Donald. Even Jane. He would grieve if he never saw them again.

"What? What are they fighting for?"

"For their lands, for their homes, and all who live in their homes. For their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, their wives, their sweethearts...they're fighting for the ones they love. Just like I'm fighting for you." Renton sighed, walked away from the window and lay on the bed. He lay in thought, trying to tackle this wuestion the two of them were trying to figure out. He suddenly had a thought as Eureka joined him on the bed and lay beside her love.

"Eureka, men fight wars for many reasons. Throughout history, the reason for one war is always different than the reason of the last war fought. A lot of us came to fight, simply because we wanted to retaliate after Pearl Harbor. Some came, mainly because we were all bored at home and this looked like it might be fun. Some came because we were ashamed not to...but...many of us came...because in our minds it was the right thing to do. And all of us have seen men die. You and I fight in a different kind of army, Eureka. This is a different kind of army. It you look back through history, you will see men fighting for pay, or for women or something else along those lines. They fought for land or power. Maybe it's because or maybe it's because they just like killing." Eureka, seeing now where he was going with this thought, nodded, interested to hear more.

"But we're here for something different, aren't we Renton?" Renton nodded, seeing an epiphany coming into his head.

"Yes. Those men out there are fighting for a nobler reason. They are part of the great army, the different army, too. We are here for something that is relatively new. This has not happened much in the history of the world. But we, along with those Americans out there, and yes, even British, are part of an army out to liberate, to set others free. The whole world should be free ground, Eureka." Eureka nodded, in complete and total agreement with him. "All of it. Not a world divided by democracies, dictatorships, and communist states. All the way. From our home in America...to the Great Wall of China, and everywhere inbetween. No man has to bow. No man has to live in fear. In this life, Eureka, and in this world, we are judged by what we do; not by who are ancestors were. Here we can be something. Here is the place to build a home. But it's not the land, there is always more land. It's the idea...that we all have value." Eureka nodded, smiling.

"You and me, Renton. You and me, what we're fighting for in the end, is each other." Renton pulled her in close and held her tight, seemingly in response to her comment.

"That's right. And maybe, fighting for the ones we love is worth all the blood and toil we've seen up to now. Eureka, I want you to know that in the next fight, as I'm sure there will be more fights to come, I'll be fighting for you, and for everyone back home. I promise, Eureka.

"Renton, when the bullets start flying, country and liberation doesn't matter a damn. What matters is justice. Justice and the one you're fighting next to."

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Eureka." The two laughed and kissed, seemingly coming to a good ending of this, perhaps the toughest question any soldier in a war faces. Let's be honest. Isn't that what all soldiers in the end fight for? Country and democracy goes out the window once the bullets whizz through the air and the shells fall to the ground. Soldiers, always and everywhere, fight for the ones at home, the ones they love. And most importantly, fight for the man next to him.

The sun sunk lower in the sky as the soldiers jumped and shouted and yelled positive nothings into the air. There was even a display of fireworks seen in the distance, in an open field at the edge of town. The sky was bright with illuminations as each crackle and bang and boom in the sky signified another celebration, a celebration of the birth of what was probably the greatest country on God's green earth. The land of democracy. The first real and true democracy. How the Founding Fathers themselves would be in awe and look on with a proud feeling that their country, the great experiment, the great gamble in its very conception, was out spreading the democratic gospel, as many must have wished! This was a gift not just for them, but for the whole world to share! Many knew it well, as did the married American couple in that little hotel that July Fourth. America, Renton and Eureka thought. When your name is uttered, what great ideals and principles you bring forth into the mind! The force for Democracy. The force for good. Leaders of the Free World. Guardians of Liberty and Freedom. Tyranny's worst enemy. All evildoers cower in fear at the utter of your name, they thought. These two young Americans held true to their colors. They had a belief, a noble one. The belief in the final victory, the belief that this war was worth fighting for.

_"Give me liberty or give me death!"---Patrick Henry_

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A/N: I have recently checked my stats and am pleased to report that this story has gotten 1,000 hits! Thank you all for taking the time to read this story. I appreciate your time and interest. You are going to like the next chapters and the end of this story, although I must warn you that it will be bittersweet. Here's a preview for the next chapter... 

_On one of the last days of his two weeks' leave, Renton and Eureka wonder what they will do with their married life..._

Until the next time, see ya later!

Renton and Eureka Forever


	23. Chapter 23: When We All Come Home

_"Grandparents somehow sprinkle a sense of stardust over grandchildren."---Alex Haley_

**Chapter Twenty-three: When They All Come Home**

**July 10th, 1944**

**Cheux, France**

The young married couple sat in the cafe, under the cover of an umbrella, enjoying the afternoon, free of the responsibilities that were always on their shoulders at the front. They were happy now, enjoying complimentary drinks from the cafe, on the grounds that they were Americans. Neither of them thought that was a good reason, but they were not objecting. The sat, looking out on the scene of happiness. Eureka had many things on her mind, as she looked out to the children playing in the town square. As she looked to them, she thought, wondered, what she and Renton would do when they return home. When they all come home. What would they all do? What would Renton and she do? Try and start over? Settle down...maybe have a family? She turned to Renton, sipping his drink, brown flat cap cocked to one side, trenchcoat unbuttoned, white dress shirt clean, legs crossed. She decided. No more fooling around. Ask him, she told herself. Ask him.

"Renton?" she asked timidly. Renton looked to her with that caring look she fell in love with. "Have you...ever thought of what you wanted to do when we come home?"

Renton scratched his head, trying to answer that vexing question. He had never given it much thought. He removed his cap, revealing his shaggy brown hair, and put it in his lap. "Gee whiz, I dunno. I've never thought about it much. Maybe just try to settle down, start over. Why? What do you want to do when we come home?" Eureka looked down timidly and blushed.

"Well...I thought maybe we could start a family. Have some children." Renton's eyes widened, and his mouth nearly dropped. Was she serious? Start a family? Have children?

"Eureka...having a family...that's a big responsibility. Are you sure?" Eureka smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I am sure, Renton. I love you, and I want to start our married life on the right foot. I want to have children." Renton smiled. He loved to see Eureka happy, and he didn't want to upset her. He closed his eyes and imagined the sight for a moment. A house, a steady job with good pay. A loving wife to come home to each day, ease him from the stresses at work. Little kids clinging to him, asking him how his day was. It was the American Dream to any other, but to him, it seemed like all he wanted and more. A wife and kids. All anyone could hope for. He smiled pleasantly at the sight. It was what he wanted. But all the same, it would be a big change...

"Eureka, I want to have a family, but it's such a large change for us. It'll be a big responsibility having to care for a baby."

"We can take it on together, Renton, because we can do anything when we're together." Renton smiled and nodded, for he knew it was true. But still, they ought to talk about it first.

"Eureka, how many do you want to have? It'll be a big responsibility."

"One child is enough for me Renton." Renton looked at her in slight surprise.

"One? I was expecting you wanted something like three or four." Eureka smiled and shook her head.

"It'll be enough responsibility for both of us to take care of one. One child is enough to show how much we love each other. Isn't that why people have children, Renton?"

"Supposedly, yes. Father told me that it's supposed to be an expression of a man and woman's love for each other. And Eureka, you know I love you more than anything." Eureka blushed and nodded, smiling at her husband.

"So, Renton...what do ou say? Do you want to have children?"

"Eureka, if you're set on having a family, then when right we come home, we'll start one. I want this too." Eureka gasped, then threw her arms around him, reveling in his approval.

"Oh, Renton!" Renton blushed. He loved it whenever she said his name like that. He looked around to see that other people were staring at them, in confusion and a feeling of strangeness. They were embarrassing themselves minute by minute but he didn't care and neither did she. They were happy that they would start a family.

"I wonder," Eureka said with an air of curiosity in her voice, "if the first child we have will be a girl or a boy." Renton thought for a moment, wondering what the child might look like. He then turned to his wife with a smile.

"You want to know what I hope it'll be? I hope it will be a girl. So she can be sweet like you." Eureka smiled and affectionately kissed him on the lips, laughing softly.

"That's funny, because I hope it will be a boy. So he can be strong and brave like you." Renton smiled lightly.

"That so? Do you want another soldier?" he said light-heartedly. Eureka laughed and shook her head.

"No," she said softly, smiling. "Renton, I think you are very...brave. I admire you for everything you've done, and I don't mean just me. If you can stand all the death and blood and toil and fight your way through the hell we face everyday...well, that's bravery. You know, Renton, when the war's over, I think you can teach our son everything you've learned from this time. Teach him how to be a good American, just as you taght me everything there was to being an American. Teach him how to be a patriot. Especially with my old mother Russia, and how Stalin might start another war when this one is over, we could use another Renton Thurston. You know what I mean?" Renton nodded thoughtfully as he drank from his glass. She had a point. We need an esprit d'corps in this country. What better place to start?

"I know what you mean, Eureka," he said, looking his wife straight in the face. "Eureka, I don't know about you, but...when we all come home, which will hopefully be by the end of August, I don't want to go out and do this kind of thing anymore. You know what I mean?" Eureka nodded, slightly confused.

"I think I do, Renton." Renton looked to her with a lost look in his eyes, a look of a child that was saying in sadness, "I want to go home."

"I'm tired, Eureka, you know? That's it. I'm just tired. I'm tired of fighting, tired of killing, tired of going off to the rescue always and everywhere. Tired of seeing good men die? I'm just tired of war, and I'm getting tired of playing the hero all the time. You know what I mean?" Eureka nodded thoughtfully. "Eureka, when we all come home, I just want to settle down in our home and try to start over. I just...I dunno. I just want to live a quiet married life with you, Eureka. There's nothing else I want in this life. I just want to have some peace and quiet at last...with you."

A tear rolled down Eureka's cheek as the weary homesick soldier spoke his last piece. She nodded, feeling his pain. She wanted this to be over, too. Everyone must want to go home and start life over again. She and Renton were no exceptions. She took his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze, looking him in his hollow worn face with her grey eyes, exhausted from this expedition and wanting to return home.

"I know, my dearest Renton. I want to return home like all the rest of us. But first let's try to gather the last of our strength and finish this fight. It's important that we stay until the job is done. Don't you think so?" REnton nodded sagely. The last he wanted to do was to take part in another British-led operation, but if it would help them get to Paris and get home, then he was all for it. Once more into breach, Renton, he told himself. Once more. Then when you come home you can be proud enough to say, I lived thorugh the campaign and I've come home. "Even if we're involved in another British operation, what does it matter? At leas we will have fought and we will be one step closer to Paris." Renton nodded, knowing full well that in a few days he would be back in Caen and in the thick of the fighting.

"Well," he said tiredly. "At least we'll be fighting the good fight, eh, Eureka?"

"Yes Renton. Fighting the good fight. That's why all of us came." They rose from their table and kissed each other, walking out tiredly hand in hand towards the inn. They passed through the village square and looked at all the children playing. Oure children might become like them, they thought. What a sight it would be to have children. What a standing ovation we will get when we tell all back at Caen the good news. That must wait though. They went up to their room, bathed and changed into their nightclothes as the sun sank lower in the sky. They wrapped themselves in each other's arms, under the satin sheets of the bed, under the light of the rising moon. Just as they drifted off to sleep, one could just make out their words to each other...

"Goodnight, Renton."

"Goodnight, my darling."

"Remember what we talked about today."

"I'll never forget. I promise. I love you, Eureka."

"I love you too."

They kissed each other goodnight and the moon rose higher into the sky and, one by one, the lights of the village went out, leaving the two peacefully sleeping lovers completely in the dark.

_"Love is the chain whereby to bind a child to his parents."---Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked that nice chap. It took me until 2:15 in the morning to plug it all out, but it sure was worth it. Anyway, before I go off to bed, I should give you a preview of what is to come next... 

_Renton and Eureka's two weeks' leave are up. They return to their camp in Caen to greet and inspect the men and tell all the good news, while Renton gives the men a few last words of encouragement for the next operation. What will be the response of his men, and Jacques?_

After that chap, we will be coming very close to the end! Stay tuned. You don't wanna miss a single word. Anyway, until we meet again, my friends. See ya!

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	24. Chapter 24: A Standing Ovation

_"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go and not be questioned."---Maya Angelou_

**Chapter Twenty-four: A Standing Ovation**

**July 14th, 1944**

**Outskirts of Caen, France**

The shaggy jet black haired boy inspected the troops, standing at attention and rifles at their sides. In the two weeks that had passed since Renton and Eureka had left, Jacques had recruited many men into the force, enough to bring the strength from 60 to 250. The company's old platoons were now commanded by Holland's and Dominic's old sergeants or what were left of them, promoted to lieutenants. A new company of 125 soldiers had been recruited to replace Henri's old company, already trained by a man named Olivier Rouche (A/N: pronunciation: roo-shay). Dominic had trained the men for Renton's company tirelessly, reorganizing the compnay's platoons, drilled them from dawn to dusk and everywhere inbetween. He was a hard task master, the equivalent of a strict drill sergeant. It was now around 11:30 am, and he, along with the other platoon commanders, knew that Renton and Eureka were coming back, and he wanted them to be greeted by the men of the gallant 1st Company, now called by many of the men "Renton's Raiders." He looked to the men, seeing them swell with pride and brim with confidence. They were to give the young couple a standing ovation. He was soon joined by Anemone, dressed in an orange and white dress, wearing a nurse's hat decked with a red cross.

"Ready for today?" Anemone asked kindly smiling.

"Everything is ready. Ready as we'll ever be. I just hope he's rested and strong again."

"Two weeks' leave must have done him some good. Anyway..." They were joined by Holland and the new platoon leaders: Patrice, Holland's former chief sergeant, an agressive and daring tall blonde-haired boy wearing a faded red kepi. Raymond, one of Dominic's chief sergeants, a boy with brown hair and glasses, calm and calculating. Gabriel, wearing a steel Adrian helmet and an old French World War One uniform, and Claude, wearing a red beret covering his matted dark hair. "...they shoulde be coming anytime soon."

"God, I hope so," said Claude, always impatient and itching for action. "The men are getting restless." Anemone walked to the road as the others talked on, wondering what had happened to them during their two weeks' leave. She looked down the dusty road, flanked on either side by a long line of trees, oaks and spruces and chestnuts. Two dark figures approached where she was standing, too far away for her to see. They gradually came closer, and She could just make out the two figures. One of them was a boy, about eighteen, with scraggly brown hair, wearing a faded brown flat cap and a grey trenchcoat, looking rejuvenated and bounding with a new energy. The other figure was a girl, about 14 or 15, wearing a blue and white dress and a gold hairclip, holding her hand tightly in his, looking at him with a happy expression. She knew those two figures anywhere, as they continued to come closer and closer, faster and faster. They were Renton and Eureka. And how happy she was to see them at last. They finally came face to face and Eureka was greeted by an embrace from Anemone.

"How'd the two weeks treat you?" she asked them witha smile on her face.

"Well," he said. "Very well."

"Anything interesting happen?" Instantly the two of them blushed.

"Well..." Eureka began timidly, "we're married now. There was a chuch in the town and we couldn't just sit there!" Anemone smiled and clapped, as a congratulations to them.

"We missed you two," Anemone said. "It hasn't really been the same without you around. Everyone's missed you." The two blushed a deeper shade of red. "It's not quite the same without our Napoleon and Josephine around." The three of them laughed as they walked to the end of the road, where the men of the 1st Company were waiting. "Everyone's waiting, you two. You better go and say hello."

The wed couple turned to their right and saw a long line of soldiers, 125 men of the old 1st Company, Renton's Raiders, looking to them with smiles on their faces, happy to see their old captain at last. He smiled at the sight of them, formed in a single-file line, extending a greater part of the broad field. The officers stood at the head of the line, ready to greet them from their long leave. Holland, grey haired and goateed, dressed in his old olive green overcoat and looking on with a smile. Dominic, dressed in his officer's garb, hat taken off and at his side in his hand, smiling wide at the young couple, showing his shining white teeth. And there was Paul, the standard bearer, holding the tricolour close to him and looking on with a smile to his old chief. Renton and Eureka looked at each other, smiling and walked, hand-in-hand to inspect the men.

Dominic turned to the long line of soldiers and yelled at the top of his lungs, "PRESENT...ARMS!" In a second all the men presented their rifles to their old captain, as he walked the length of the line, hand-in-hand with his wife, saluting the 1st company. He had missed the men, and the men had missed him. It was a "welcome home" from the men, and there was a general feeling of happiness at having their old chief back. Renton had a lot on his mind, however. He needed to speak to his men, try to rally them for one more try at taking Caen, even if it was in conjunction with a _British_ operation. Once more into the breach, as Henry V once said. Gather up what strength you have, men, and charge once more into the breach. They reached the end of the line and Renton turned to Eureka speaking to her with seriousness and intent.

"Eureka, I need to speak to the men. There is something important I need to tell them." Eureka's eyes glistened.

"What? You mean, about our being...?"

"No, not that. We have to try one more time to take Caen. Even if we're fighitng with the British. We can't give up now, when it's so obvious that Caen's citizens need our help. I need to tell them. Just wait here." Eureka nodded and let him go, as she walked to join the other nurses.

Renton walked to a slight rise in the ground, something he could use as a pulpit. He was now a ways in front of the center of the line, looking to the whole first company, standing at attention, rifles at their sides. In front of him in the line stood the flagbearer, Paul, looking intently at him and knowing that he had a lot to say. Renton must rally the men to try one more time to take Caen. He saw his officers in line with their platoons and thought, what would Holland and Dominic say? What would Jacques say? In any case, they couldn't give up now. It had to be done. They had to try one more time. He cleared his throat and spoke in a strong tone.

"Boys, you've never failed to disappoint me in any fight. Your courage is unsurpassable and your will unbreakable. But boys, we face a hard choice before us. We can continue this mutiny of ours against the British High Command, or we can swallow our pride and our bitterness, and try for one more operation."

The men looked to each other, in a slight confusion at what he was saying. He raised a hand.

"Listen to me, boys. I know that you're all fed up, disgusted, and dissatisfied with the British High Command. I am too. But boys, think, if only for a moment, of the citizens in that city, that city that is slowly turning to rubble day by day. Those...are French citizens. They're our brothers and sisters. Think of the horrors they must put up with. They still live in a city under the control of the Nazi cutthroats. If we keep up this mutiny, those Frenchmen will have to suffer more and more. Can any of us live with the fact that we never went to help our French brethren because we were too busy holding a grudge against the British for a botched operation two weeks earlier?"

No one spoke up in protest. They started to wonder if maybe he was right. Each thought, what will become of us? How will we be able to live with ourselves?

"Think of it in this way, boys. If we capture the city in the next operation, we will be one step closer to Paris, and one step closer to going home. Henry V once told his men at the seige of Harfleur, in 1415, when all seemed lost and the British close to defeat, 'Once more into the breach, dear friends! Once more! Or cover the wall up with our English dead!'. He rallied his men for one more try and they charged, onward into the breach made in the seige and won a glorious victory for the British. I now ask upon you, my brave boys, to swallow your pride and bitterness and disgust, and charge...once more into the breach. Once more! Or cover the wall up with our French dead! What say you, men? You have proven yourselves to be brave souls in battles before. Will you give it one more try? What say you, boys? Once more into the breach?"

There then rose a tremendous cheer and roar from the company, men tossing caps in the air, yelling and screaming positive, though what those cries were, he could not tell. All he knew was he had rallied them for one more try. Once more into the breach. They all yelled and cheered, and Paul, smiling at his old chief, raised the faded tricolour, all the bullet holes patched and sewn up, looking good as new. Renton smiled as he took off his cap and slapped it on his knee, knowing in his heart that this was worth it. If they win the next fight, they'll be closer to Paris, and he and his friends would be closer to that big boat home. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine his men, marching victoriously through the streets of Caen, battered but triumphant.

»»»»»

Nightfall came, and all the commanders sat around the campfire, talking with Renton and Eureka on what had happened to them in their two weeks. All were told by Anemone that they had gotten married, and the young newlyweds were met with cheers and yells, and the two of them laughed when they heard Dominic yell, "about damn time!" All soon came to the business of what Renton said that day, and what all thought about the matter. Many were heartily in favor, even Jacques swallowed his hatred for the British command, to Renton's relief.

"You are right, Renton," Claude spoke up, always the agitator, "it would be criminal folly if we left our French brothers to their fates. We must beat the Nazi hordes back, back from our homeland!" Renton smiled calmly as all the others cheered in support of Claude. Renton raised a hand, calming them.

"We will drive them, Claude. But before they are beaten and retreat across the Rhine, there will be a great battle. Here, in Caen, and in Paris." All mumbled in solemn agreement. "It'll be a hard slog, but once we're through, we're through."

"Say chief," Dominic piped up, trying to change the subject, "have you ever thought about what you're gonna do when this is all over?"

"He'll do what all of us will do when we come home!" Gabriel laughed, always being the joker. "He'll get drunk!" All laughed and Renton smiled and shook his head, laughing.

"Well, of course he'll get drunk like the rest of us," Dominic laughed. "But after that it's back St. Come, we say goodbye, and then we catch that big boat home to Belleforest. But what else?" Renton and Eureka looked to each other and blushed.

"Should we tell them?" Renton asked quietly. Eureka smiled, still blushing.

"It's okay. It doesn't bother me, Renton." Renton nodded and turned to the others.

"Well," Renton began to Dominic, still blushing, "Eurekaand I have thought of maybe starting a family." All cheered and Dominic smirked.

"How many kids?" he asked. "Ten? Twenty? Thirty?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Dominic," he said smiling. "Just gonna have one."

"One? That's it? Just one?"

"What's the matter with one?"

"One is such a lonely number. If it were me, I'd have three kids."

"Why three?" Dominic thought for a moment.

"Dunno. Just like the number three." He smiled and laughed as he put an arm around his fiancee, and kissed her lightly.

"What about you? What're you gonna do when we all come home?" Dominic smiled wide.

"The first thing I'm gonna do when I get home is go to the nearest church and get hitched!" Anemone laughed, tossing her bright red hair back.

"Well," Renton said smiling, "the cathedral in Caen is still open for a take, if you want to get married now." Dominic looked to Anemone, pink hair streaming down her shoulders and looking up at her fiance, smiling. He knew already what the answer was going to be, but he might as well ask anyway.

"How 'bout it, Anemone? When the seige is over?" Anemone smiled, nodding.

"When the seige is over." Anemone kissed him lightly, and Dominic took her soft cheek in his hand as the others clapped and cheered.

"Well, now that that settled, I guess...when we get home to Belleforest, what me and Anemone'll do is just go home to the apartment and try to start over. You know?" Renton and Eureka nodded.

"Yeah."

They talked on for a while until finally all decided to turn in, since it was getting on late, leaving the two young lovers looking into the fire. They stared for a long while, just thinking, wondering what their new married life would look like. They fell asleep in front of the fire in each other's arms, sharing a small kiss, dreaming about their future Little children running around the house, a steady job for Renton, a loving doting wife to come home to each day. Growing old, passing on the stories of his actions in Stalingrad and Normandy, and teaching them not just how to be a good person, but how to be a good American, just as he taught Eureka how to be one. A private married life with children. All he and she ever wanted. Some peace and quiet at last, after this long and terrible war's end...

_"Home is where the heart is."---Pliny the Elder_

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked that one. The next one, however, may be my last chap for two weeks. I'll be going to Washington to partake in the National Student Leadership Conference. I'll be away for about two weeks. They'll allow us to use laptops and they may or may not have ethernet, so I might be able to update a little bit then. For the most part however, I'll be busy touring the Pentagon, Defense Intelligence Agency and the CIA and looking around Washington D.C. I will be back and writing on August 11th. But here's a preview of the next chap... 

_A new British operation to take the city is launched: Operation Goodwood. Jacques' men will be deployed along with the 11th Armoured Division in the city, but what lies in wait for them there?_

What will happen? Will they survive? Will Dom and Anemone finally get married at the cathedral? All questions will be answered in due time, my dear friends. Until next time, see ya later.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	25. Chapter 25: Operation Goodwood

_"The most effective fire comes from concentric lines of engagement."---Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington_

**Chapter Twenty-five: Operation Goodwood**

**July 18th, 1944**

**5:30 am. Bridges of the Orne River, Caen**

Much had happened during Renton's two weeks' leave. The Canadians had launched Operation Charnwood on July 8th, and had managed to caputre the northern half of Caen by the 11th. Still, the seige was not over. Most of Caen was still in German hands, and needed to be brought under British and Canadian control. Operation Goodwood was a daring plan. The major objectives for the 11th Armoured Division, to which Jacques' force was still attached to, was to take the villages of Bras, Hubert-Folie, Verrieres and Fontenay, all southwest of Caen. The ultimate objective was to push the Germans off the high ground on Bourgebus Ridge, further south. Never had the British Command taken such a gamble. It would be a hard slog but once we're through, we're through.

Renton and his old company were crossing the bridges over the river Orne in the middle of the city, and all the men got to have a look of Caen for the first time. It was a devastating sight. The whole city had nearly been flattened through the constant carpet bombings of the RAF and the United States Air Corps. Most of the buildings had been turned to piles of rubble there were still fewer buildings left standing. Renton and the others assessed it must be at least 90 percent destroyed. The only noticeable building they could see still standing was the ancient Cathedral, the place where Dominic and Anemone were to be wed. The cathedral, according to Renton, dated back to the time of William the Conqueror, meaning it must have been constructed during the 7th or 8th century. There was also the old Castle of William the Conqueror, dating back even farther, possibly to the 5th century.

"Wow," Dominic said in astonishment. "_That_ old?"

"_That_ old," Renton said, smiling and raising his eyebrows. "This is an old historic city, Dominic." Dominic was still busy looking around at the city in ruins.

"It's by the grace of God that that Cathedral isn't destroyed. Otherwise, where would me and Anemone go to get hitched?" Renton smiled and laughed.

"The British wouldn't go _that_ far. That's the place where all the refugees are being held." Dominic's eyes widened at the word "refugee".

"Refugees?" Renton nodded solemnly.

"Yep. Can you imagine anyone living in the streets after being bombed out of house and home? That cathedral is the _only_ place where the citizens of Caen can go. Everywhere else has been bombed out." Dominic couldn't think of anyhting else to say, and Jacques soon arrived on the scene.

"Men," Jacques said firmly, "I've just spoken with some British officers and they tell me that there is very little German troops in this area, and we, along with the 29th Armoured Brigade are to press on through the city and to the southern city limits. There, we will get set up for our attack run. Everyone know the objectives?"

"Yessir," Renton and the others replied wearily. They had to study this before the operation was launched. Everything was memorized down to the last detail. The villages needed to be captured, the ultimate objectives, everything. Everything had to be memorized.

"Very well, then. Move out." Renton turned to Dominic.

"Dominic, get the men formed up. We are moving out." Dominic nodded firmly and turned to his platoon, back at full strength of 25 men. He took out an officer's whistle given to him by his chief at the Presidio in San Francisco, Major Jurgens. He blew it hard, yelling to his men with the voice of a drill sergeant.

"Let's go! Second Platoon! Weapons on me!" The second platoon, along with the whole of the First Company formed in a road column and marched through the ruins of the city with the 29th Armoured Brigade, encountering, as Jacques had said, very little resistance. Most troops they came across were quickly captured and taken prisoner or simply ran away. All the men of the First Company cheered as they marched through the streets, Dominic saying things like, "They can't take it!" or "those krauts are so scared they dare not look us in the face!" Only a few men like Renton and Holland seemed to be suspicious that the Germans had mostly withdrawn from the city. They wouldn't withdraw from the city without a fight...unless they had something else planned, or unless they knew that the British were coming.

»»»»»

**9:45 am, outskirts of Bras, southwest of Caen, France**

The 29th Armoured Brigade and Jacques' force of 250 men sat quietly in a ditch on the road heading to Bras, the first of the 11th Armoured Division's objectives. Jacques' force would be in the lead of the attack, and "Renton's Raiders" would be in the lead of Jacques' force. Renton and the other platoon commanders sat in the ditch, trying to plan the attack. Renton turned to Holland first. His platoon was made of 25 solid veterans, the only platoon lucky enough to suffer few casualties. He should lead. He was the most qualified.

"Holland, I want you to take the 1st straight up the middle, hard and fast. I'll be right behind you with Second and Third. We need to move quickly." Holland nodded. He knew well what he must do. Renton turned to Claude and Raymond, two of Dominic's former sergeants, now platoon commanders. "Claude, Raymond, you'll be coming in from the right of the town. When you've learned that we've begun our assault, move inside and clear out the town street by street and house by house. We all need to go very fast. No one starts firing until we get into the city. I don't want anyone hitting the ground. Keep running until you reach the inside of the town, then we'll take back the town and fight 'em house by house. Understand?"

"Yessir," all returned.

"Very well then. Get ready, boys." All then ran to their respective platoons, while Renton stayed with Holland and Dominic. He looked at his pocketwatch. Quarter to ten. They needed to move now or the whole attack would be slowed up. Renton turned to Holland with unflinching eyes and whispered, "Go!"

Holland turned to the men and whispered, "Let's go, First! Let's go!" The first platoon rose, followed by the second and third. They all began a rapid advance towards the town, aiming at a towering building called Cafe du Normandie. They soon heard Germans yelling orders and MG42s spattered fire, knocking men down in a hail of bullets. Still, they presed on, with the men of the 29th Armoured brigade coming up behind them. Some tried to hide in the ditch, only to be yelled at and coaxed into moving forward by Renton, saying, "Get outta the ditch and get moving! We have men getting killed out there!"

"LET'S GO, FIRST COMPANY! FORWARD! GO! GO!" Renton yelled, as the men surged forward, into the town. Grenades were tossed into the cafe, casting the Germans out of the window, two stories high, and hitting the ground dead, silencing the forward MGs. They moved on into the town, and house-to-house fighting ensued, as the tanks of the 29th Armoured Brigade pressed on through the streets, soon coming into contact with the German armor. Dominic's platoon advanced through the northern side of town, encountering stiff resistance form the Germans. The men were pinned down behind a broken wall, in front of a house where an MG42 squad was firing. Dominic knew the house had to be taken if the attack through the town was to continue, and he turned to his men.

"Get a smoke grenade over here! Someone toss a smoke grenade! Quick!" Nathan, one of Dominic's remaining sergeants, pulled out a smoke grenade and tossed it. There followed the sound of gas hissing and a great curtain of white smoke rose into the air. Dominic jumped over the wall and pulled from his pocket a Colt-45 pistol. "You men stay here and provide covering fire! I'm clearing out the house." He ran through the small field in front of the house and came to the front door, kicking it off its hinges, and soon coming into contact with Germans. They came at him, waving their Mauser rifles over their heads like clubs, but Dominic got each one of them with his pistol, knocking a quick shot through their heart or forehead. He stood there reloading his pitsol, looking over the Germans he had just killed. Blood poured from where he had shot them, bleeding through their clothes or over their faces and turning the grey-colored uniforms blood red. You really get to know a man when you watch him die. The one moment where he realizes it's over, in that one instant of full realization, you can tell what kind of life he led, or what decisions he made...and if he regrets them. He turned away from the gruesome scene and headed up the stairs, coming right behind the MG42 squad, who had resumed fire. He aimed his pistol at the back of a German's head. He chose the one not manning the MG, and looked down his sight.

Oh God, he thought to himself, please forgive them, for they know not what they do.

He fired and hit the German through the head, spattering blood on the wall; the bullet had gone right through the helmet and out the other side of the head. The German manning the machine gun turned to find Dominic, and, while yelling in German, tried to pull out a Luger pistol. To hear him yelling in German sounded like a demon screaming at him. Dominic raised the pistol and said, "shut up with that fucking Pig Latin."

BANG!

The German fell, shot through the head, over the window and down to the ground. He then moved to the window and yelled to his men, "This building's clear! Let's move up! Go! Go! Go!" The men promptly followed this edict and ran onward down the street to the next house, inside to clear it out, and then the next house, and the next house, and the next house...

Holland and his men advanced through the center of town and soon came to another cafe, where Claude's men were holed up. There were at least two MG crews firing from the windows, pinning Claude's men behind the houses. Holland's platoon were now taking cover behind a building on the side of the cafe. Holland looked down the sight of his Mosin-Nagant rifle, aiming at a German machine gunner in the lower window. He aimed carefully, taking care not to miss. He slowly squeezed the trigger and then...

CRACK!

He knocked down the German, who fell on his head over the window. The machine gun was refaced and they started firing on Holland's men, and Holland soon ducked away from the fire, and he and his men were pinned. Holland turned to his men, looking to him hoping for an answer of how to get out of this tight spot.

"Rene, take your sqaud and clear that house from behind. We'll be pinned down all day if we don't!" Rene, one of Holland's best sergeants, nodded and motioned for his men to follow him. They circled around the street Holland and his platoon were on, and came at the house from the rear. They bashed down the door and charged into the two rooms where they found the machine gunners. Holland heard sporadic gunfire from inside the house, followed by silence. Rene then opened a window and gave the thumbs-up, yelling, "This building's clear. Let's go!" Holland smiled.

"Only I can give that order, Rene!" He turned to the men and yelled, "The building's clear! Let's go!" Holland and the platoon, along with Claude's, came out from where they were pinned and moved on down the main street, to where a church with a tall steeple was, to where Renton was waiting for them.

Renton looked over from the steeple of the church to view the battle, seeing that his boys were making steady, if slow, progress. Claude and Raymond had routed the Germans on their front with their flank attacks from the right, and advancing toward the church, while Holland, who had just recovered from that MG attack, was now moving steadily forward towards the church, putting the Germans to flight as they went. Dominic was slowly advancing through the northern part of town, knocking out each German position, fighting them street by street, house by house, alley by alley, yard by yard. Renton looked at his pocketwatch and saw that the time was now quarter past ten. This fight, a hard slog, had been raging for a full half hour and this was only the first town that needed to be taken. They needed to move quickly if they were to get to Bourgebus Ridge to begin the assault on that position. But the vexing question in his mind was: why have the Germans seemed to be prepared? Why were their defenses so strong? Why were there Panzers in the town? It's as if they knew we were coming all along. It's as if...they had planned for this from the beginning. Renton then realized the gravity of the situation in an instant. The Germans must have intercepted the radio transmissions of the British High Command! They must have intercepted and decoded the messages! They knew all along. They knew they were coming and by the looks of the defenses, they must have known at least four days beforehand. July 15th. They knew all along. The Germans then had plenty of time to prepare the defenses to meet the assault. Dammit, he cursed. Foiled again! This whole plan has failed even before it began! We'll have to brute-force it if this operation is to succeed.

Renton walked down the stairs from the steeple and arrived in the church courtyard to be greeted by his lieutenants. Holland, steady as a rock. Dominic, quick-thinking and decisive. Claude, with his red beret, aggressive, yet cautious. Raymond, calm and ready for a fight. Patrice, Holland's former chief sergeant, toting his red kepi, tenacious and hard-striking. And Gabriel, wearing his World War I uniform and calmly smiling.

"We are pushing them back, Renton!" Claude said exuberantly. "We are pushing them back! We have captured most of the town, but there are still some German strongholds that we cannot take. I need reinforcements to capture them." Renton nodded and turned to Holland.

"Holland, you will be assigned to Claude's command until the strongholds have been knocked out. Both of you report back to me then." Holland nodded and he and Claude to join their respective commands. Renton turned to Dominic, looking weary and hard-fought. "How are things on your front, Dominic?"

"My men are making steady progress, chief. Nathan reported to me that he found some German dispatches in one of the buildings he captured, and it turns out that the Germans have known about this operation in advance. They've known ever since July 15th and they have prepared their defenses. We've lost the element of surprise." Renton shook his head and chuckled knowingly.

"Bad weeds grow tall around here, don't they? Well, it looks like we're in for a hard slog. Boys, when we've captured the town, report this back to headquarters and tell them that a change of plan is needed. The rest of you, keep pushing forward until you've reached the end of the town. After we've captured this town we'll be heading to the Bourgebus Ridge to start our assault there. Any questions?" All saluted in reply.

"No, sir."

"Very well, then." All left to their respective commands to continue their assault. The remaining German strongholds were knocked out and the town was soon captured. The men, along with the 29th Armoured Brigade and the rest of the 11th Armoured division headed further south towards the Bourgebus ridge. This was going to be a slaughter.

»»»»»

**July 19th, 1944**

**11:00 am, Bourgebus Ridge, southwest of Caen, France**

The attack was not going as planned for the Allies. The Germans were now launching a counterattack, and the ridge had to be taken. The success or failure of this operation depended on the assault of Bourgebus Ridge. Jacques, Renton, Olivier and the other commanders all viewed the Germans encamped on the high ground. The Germans were dug in, good and deep; the ridge was held by the 21st Panzer Division, the 1st SS Panzer Division, along with a number of other guns. The most forbidding and terrifying of all the guns were the large 88 millimeter anti-aircraft guns, commonly called by the men as "Flak-88s". A shell from a Flak-88 could reduce a Sherman to a burning wreck. What made it worse was that the 29th Armoured Brigade was the only unit of the 11th Armoured that would assault the ridge. The 159th Infantry Brigade was still behind them, cleaning out two villages. One of the rules of combined arms tactics, indeed, of warfare in its entirety, was that you always attack with everything you have. Don't go half-ass; go with everything you got. Worst of all was that the 29th Armoured would have no artillery support; the ridge was far out of range of the British artillery. Nothing, however, could be worse than the fact that the Germans knew they were coming. And the British were going to attack anyway. This was going to be a slaughter. Renton and the others lamented:

"If only we knew."

"One of the first rules of war is you never attack where the enemy expects you to," Renton said, knowing in his heart the attack would fail. "and there's no other way to hit them. We have to go straight up the middle...and it will be a bloody mess."

"At least we will have done our duty," Jacques said solemnly. "Renton, if anyone goes down today, it's God's will." Renton nodded sagely and sighed heavily. This operation was doomed before it even started, and he knew it, along with everyone else. "Get some rest, Renton. We'll be moving out in about fifteen minutes." Renton nodded, sighing, with a feeling of great impending doom closing in on the force. He and Dominic walked to the aid-station, to talk with Eureka and Anemone, to try and calm their nerves before the great fight. They soon found them, tending to the wounded, which thankfully were very few. That alone was miraculous, considering the stiff German resistance. Dominic had trained the men well. The two couples spoke to one another simultaneously, asking old questions and getting old answers.

"How goes it, soldier?" asked Eureka/Anemone with a smile.

"Passin' well, passin' well," Renton/Dominic replied. "How many wounded today?"

"Not many, thank God. Everyone seems so gloomy though. I don't know why."

"This operation failed before it began," Renton/Dominic said solemnly. Eureka/Anemone looked in surprise at her husband/fiance, who was chip and upbeat since the days before.

"What?"

"Our men have captured German dispatches and found that...the krauts knew we were coming all along. Since July 15th. They've been preparing and planning for this. They knew everything. It was one gigantic intelligence failure."

"Dear God," Eureka/Anemone said, shocked, looking over the wounded. "You mean...we came all this way...for nothing?"

"Not necessarily. We never knew. We only just found this out. Now that they know, the whole plan is sure to go awry. The worst part is Generals O'Connor and Montgomery won't listen. 'The attack must proceed as planned!' they say. We keep telling them, but no one will listen." Renton/Dominic looked over the wounded, somehow contemplating that more of the stretchers would be filled by midday. The whole aid station will be cramped.

"How do you think the attack will go today?" Renton/Dominic shook their heads, knowing full well the fate of the assault.

"I think the attack will fail." Eureka/Anemone stared at Renton/Dominic and blinked, mouth open slightly, trying to fully understand the grave prediction he just made.

"You're certain?" She asked, worriedly, bringing her hand to her mouth, more and more uneasy.

"Yes," he said firmly. "The attack _will_ fail. In 3/4 of an hour or so. This whole aid station will be filled with dead and wounded." Eureka/Anemone covered her mouth, stunned and paralyzed with the searing knowledge that the attack was doomed.

"You'll try to change Montgomery's mind about this, of course."

"Of course. But until there is a change of plan, there's nothing more I can do. Get the sickbeds ready. This is going to be a slaughter." They gave each other a kiss "goodbye and good luck" and started to leave when they were stopped.

"I'll pray for you," Eureka/Anemone said. "I'll pray for you when the attack has begun." The two men nodded to their respective female companions and left the aid station to join their commands. Eureka and Anemone repeated those words all day, gravely knowing the gravity of the situation: The attack, indeed the whole operation, was doomed to fail.

They soon arrived at their respective commands and formed the men up into assault columns, the best way to attack an enemy line. Renton gathered his commanders for a final briefing session. He addressed them gravely, knowing, as everyone else did, that the attack was doomed.

"Gentlemen, have your men fix bayonets and form up your platoons in assault columns. When the order is given to commence the attack, you will advance at the double-quick and you will not stop until you hear the order to halt. Gentlemen...you will not hear that order. Now, when we reach the first line of trenches we will hold our position until the reinforcements arrive, and..." He sighed, wiping the sweat off his face. What he was telling them came from all he learned about how to attack a defensive line. He knew, however that what he told them would mean very little in the attack to come. "...when the reinforcements do come, (if they ever will, he thought) we will attack the next line and the next line and the next line...until we finally push them off the ridge. Does anyone have questions?" All looked to him solemnly, knowing, as he did, that what he told them would not mean a damn. They all saluted calmly and replied:

"No, sir."

"Very well then. Go to your commands and when I give the signal...you will advance. Gentlemen, the attack is set to begin. The rest is in God's hands."

"Amen," all said sagely. They dispersed and went to their respective commands. Many men would die here today. We will die doing our duty. That will be the objective we accomplish today. God help us. Renton looked to his pocketwatch, and saw the dreaded time: 11:15 in the morning. 11:15 am, Paris Time, July 19th 1944. This will be the day that I die, he thought. God help me now. He turned to his rear and saw the tanks of the 29th Armoured Brigade behind him, and Jacques alongside one of them. He will partake in this like the rest of us, we 300 souls, we 300 brothers in arms. God help him too. God help us all. Jacques nodded, giving the go-ahead, knowing this attack was doomed to fail. Renton nodded in kind and turned to the front, the grassy field, which will soon be strewn with dead and wounded. He raised his sword and brought his officer's whistle to his sweaty lips, trembling with every breath. He then blew.

FWEEEET! FWEEEET!

All, tanks and men, British and French and American and Russian, charged up, knowing well that this attack would accomplish nothing but destruction. Onward they charged. Up the slope until they came under heavy fire from the MG42s, Panzers, Panthers, Tigers, Pak-38s, Pak-40s and the dreaded Flak-88s. The earth shook beneath them, coming up from under them, casting men into the air like ragdolls. Everywhere one looked there was chaos and death and agony and madness. Tanks blown to bits and turned to smouldering piles of metal and gasoline. Those damn Panzers! Damn Panthers! Damn Tigers! Damned German tanks, agents of death crafted from iron and steel! Men, shot down by the score by machine guns, submachine guns, rifles, blood pouring from their wounds, sometimes blown to atoms by a shell that landed directly on them, blown to nothingness, gone from the earth. Some fell with more than thirty bullets through their chest, blood leaking in streams down their torso and legs, locked in their position, completely still. Some men's heads were even wiped clean off, without a even drop of blood. Men's arms and legs shot off, the green field awash with blood and gore. All the Germans firing everything they had at the oncoming attackers! Every weapon! Every agent of death imaginable firing upon them now! No time to waver! No time to retreat! Attack was the only option and forward the only direction in which they could go. Onward they charged, bayonets glinting in the late morning sun, smoke filling the hot summer air, blurring the vision, but no time to worry about blurred vision. Duty calls! Forward! Not a single step back! For God and country! For the Old Republic! Onward, men! Once more into the breach! Or cover the wall up with our French dead! Onward! Push forward, men! Onward! Onward. Onward...onward. Finally the reprieve came: Fall back. Fall back! Fall back, first company! Fall back, second company! Fall back, 29th Armoured! Fall back! Retreat! Retreat towards the bottom, the bottom from whence you came! Leave the wounded behind; they are done for. Just retreat! Save yourselves! Run! Run for your lives! A final shot, a final kill, a final spatter of MG fire, before finally...

Silence.

The attack failed, as Renton and the others predicted. Renton, wounded slightly in the arm and leg, limped to the aid station, next to Dominic, Holland, Claude and the other platoon commanders. Thank God, he thought, that I am alive, like Dominic and the others. All the platoon leaders had been wounded, some in the arm, some in the leg, some in the hand, some in the head. The force, 300 strong at the start of this assault, was now a weary 200. Renton's Raiders had suffered 25 casualties, bringing his force down to 100. Renton, along with the other commanders wounded, were pleased to know from Jacques that these men would soon be replaced by the numerous Resistance fighters coming from the captured villages. The commanders did not care, however. The attack failed. The attack failed as soon as it began. The commanders were patched up as soon as they were wounded, and they left, trying to recover from the shattering blow and assessing just what damage had been done to the operation and their men.

»»»»»

**July 20th, 1944, Bourgebus Ridge**

The battle was going more and more against the British. The Bourgebus Ridge would not budge, despite repeated, futile assaults. Individual tank battalions fought unsupported and in succession, rather than fighting together as part of all-arms battlegroups. Unsupported tank units could not easily root out dug-in towed guns, although a combined-arms team of tanks, infantry and self-propelled artillery might have had much better luck. Now, worst of all, the Germans were launching an armored counterattack, begun yesterday on the 19th, and fighting continued along the high ground and near the town of Hubert-Folie, stopping the British advances cold everywhere. Jacques' force, coming in with new highly disciplined Resistance fighters from the captured villages all the time, tried to hang on, and tried to convince the British High Command to fall back, telling them the operation was rapidly falling apart, and they must stop a major British military disaster from taking place. No one would listen at HQ.

"I'm telling you, General," Renton yelled over the phone leading to O'Connor's headquarters, "We can't take that ridge without more support! Almost half of the 29th Armoured Brigade's tanks are gone!"

"And I'm telling you," O'Connor said, in that Royal British accent of all officers like him, "That you must push on. The Germans cannot be allowed to break through. The ridge is close to breaking. I have heard reports that others have seen our men in the forward trenches."

"Not by me, sir! I ask for a confirmation from General Montgomery!"

"The Guards Armoured Division and 7th Armoured are advancing forward on your left flank. You and the 11th Armoured are the only ones who have been stopped. You are slowing up the attack, Captain!"

"Advancing?!" Renton yelled, exasperated. "That was two days ago, General O'Connor! Everywhere we have been stopped cold. The 11th Armoured is scattered and we cannot launch another attack. General...I speak for Jacques when I say that we, and the 29th Armoured, cannot take that position sir! The krauts are too dug in! They got too much firepower! General, there are Flak-88s up there. We can't get to them, and...it's chewing us up to pieces."

"Captain, the attack is moving forward in all sectors except yours. You must guard the flank of the Guards Armoured and 7th Armoured Divisions. You are to attack, with the rest of the 11th Armoured, and you will do so immediately. Is that clear? You are to push on."

"General, it's cold-blooded murder!"

"I said push on." Renton closed his eyes and rubbed them, sighing. He couldn't move O'Connor. There was no use in arguing with him. He must commit again to a senseless attack. Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die. This attack was doomed and he knew it.

"Sir, I will lead my company to the ridge, but I doubt if you will see me or my men again. Goodbye, General." He hung up, and walked to the platoon leaders, looking on in deep concern.

"What did he say?" Holland asked, grey eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. Renton closed his eyes and shook his head.

"We're going. I can't change his mind. Until there is a change of plan we are to keep attacking. Get your men together. I'll see you all in the trenches." All dejectedly went to their commands to prepare them for the suicidal attack. Some of the commanders dejectedly threw their caps on the ground, some went to their commands cursing out their anger and frustration. Renton went to the front of the line, this time with more tanks and more than half of all the 11th Armoured Division behind them, the whirring of the tank engines in his ears, the men now in their assault columns, and Jacques staying behind; he had been badly wounded in the shoulder. Renton could not help but remember a story he once heard of something vaguely like this. The Charge of the Light Brigade, at the Battle of Balaklava in the Crimean War. _Cannon to the left of them, cannon to the right of them, cannon in front of them, into the jaws of Death rode the six hundred._ Seems all too fitting, he thought. We, the gallant three hundred. Onward and upward, into the jaws of death, charged the three hundred. As he was tring to finish his muse, a whistle blew.

FWEEEET! FWEEEET!

And they charged into the jaws of Death. All around him, men fell, blood spurted, doubling up, turning to the sky, giving that haunting hanging deathly stare. Tanks exploding upon impact with one shell of a Flak-88, shells bursting all around them, the earth erupting from beneath them, flinging men into the air, sometimes blasting them to atoms, other times blowing their arms or legs clean off. The green field was slowly turning red with blood and gore. Flags flying! Men screaming, cursing, moaning and praying! Death around, behind, and madness everywhere one looked! Onward they charged, the gallant three hundred, into the jaws of death. AT guns to the left of them! 88s to the right of them! MG42s in front of them! Cannons to the left of them, cannons to the right of them, cannons in front of them! Into to the jaws of death charged the three hundred! They soon came to a gully, and all, through no command of Renton's, took shelter behind there from the firing. It would be suicide for him alone to continue up the ridge. He ran to his men, and they all sat, waiting for the orders to retreat. They watched the battle and the slaughter from the shelter of the gully. It was utterly heart-wrenching. Tanks blew up and turned to piles burning steel and foul smell of burning gasoline filled the hot summer air and many wretch and vomit, the smell was so putrid. The attack ground to a complete halt and men of the 29th Armoured were shot down by the score, blood pouring from any oraface where they were hit, sometimes not even falling to the ground; just bolted up, every joint locked, not moving. Staring hanging faces abounded whenever a fool dared to charge from out of the gully. No attack could penetrate that line. No way in hell. Renton sank to the ground sighing and crying softly, cap clutched in his hands, rifle slung on his back, trenchcoat muddy and dirty.

"I'm sorry, boys. This is all my fault."

"It isn't your fault, Renton," Dominic said, turning to his old chief with a solemn face. "It's nobody's fault. It was bound to happen. You know that old saying: no plan survives contact with the enemy!" Renton nodded, knowing in his heart that this attack had been doomed. All they could do now was wait for the order to retreat.

"He's right, Renton," Holland said in support. "None of this could have been predicted. Not even General Patton could have predicted this!"

"What should we do, chief? What do you want us to do?" Renton turned to each of the men, thinking they knew what the sensible thing to do was.

"Stay here and wait for further orders." And so they did. They waited and waited, firing over the top of the gully at the dug-in Germans, knowing full well it would not do any good. For a full half-hour they sat as the fighting raged, the attack stopped cold. Soon they saw a familiar figure coming to them with a paper in his hands: Jacques.

"Listen, men! Listen! We've recieved dispatches from headquarters." He fumbled with the paper and then quickly read the orders aloud:

_July 20th, 1944_

_Major Jacques Debusset: It has become apparent to many at the British High Command that the advance of our forces cannot continue much further, as of the strength of the German lines is becoming overwhelming and the preparation they had in the time before this operation very good. Your orders are, along with the rest of the 11th Armoured Division, to fall back to the original position established on the night of 18th July 1944, 11 kilometers southeast of Caen, and make defensive preparations for any future German counterattack. You are NOT to withdraw any further than the village of Bras. Report to Division headquarters when you have completed your objective. _

_Yours,_

_Lieutenant General Richard O'Connor_

_P.S. Please give my sincerest apologies to Captain Thurston for not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. He has performed his duty and accomplished all he had in his power to achieve, as all of you have, and no one can accomplish any more than that. You will all be decorated for your outstanding bravery in this operation. Thank you very much for your help, Major__ Debusset._

_GOD SAVE THE KING_

"Well," Renton said, smiling, "I guess not all tea-drinking generals are idiots! Ain't that right, boys?" All cheered and laughed in agreement with Renton.

"You have your orders, Captain," Jacques said. "Pull your men back. All of them." Renton promptly saluted and soon yelled the order.

"FIRST COMPANY! FALL BACK!" The men didn't need to be told twice. They, along with the 29th Armoured and what remained of the 11th Armoured fell back away from the bloody and gore-strewn Bourgebus Ridge and went on the road, riding on what tanks were left, back to where they were on the night of July 18th. No, not retreating, Renton thought. Regrouping, maybe, but not retreating. They would be in Bras, 11 kilometers away southeast from the city of Caen. 11 kilometers southeast. 11 kilometers, the greatest gains made on the first day. Well, at least it didn't fail totally. Now Caen is officially secure in British hands, and Dominic will be happy to know that tomorrow, after being decorated, we'll head back to Caen, to the cathedral and have him..."hitched". He laughed at that word. This was not a total loss. It was, at least in military terminology, a marginal victory. Finally, after many days, we finally bested the Germans in Caen, if only by the slightest margins. And finally Dominic could be married to the love of his life...

»»»»»

**July 21st, 1944**

**Abbey-aux-Hommes Cathedral, Caen, France**

Renton, Holland, Eureka and four of his platoon commanders sat quietly in the calm cathedral, amidst the chatter of the free refugees, knowing they could now come out of hiding, and joyous at the liberation of their city, even if it came at a devastating cost. Renton, Holland, Jacques, Olivier, and all the platoon leaders were commended for their gallant actions in Operation Goodwood, now officially over, and were awarded Britain's highest honor: The Victoria Cross. All wore the medal proudly dangling from a ribbon over their necks, watching from the pews the marriage of Dominic Sorel to his love Anemone Doolittle. The priest, dressed in a Catholic priest's garb, blessed the couple, both of whom were on their knees, heads bowed in prayer. Dominic was dressed in his traditional offcer's garb, given to him by his chief at the Presidio, Major Jurgens, but he had taken off his hat considering how this was a sacred place, and stuffed it into his back pocket. Anemone wore her traditional orange and white dress, her long bright red hair flowing down her back and spreading on the floor. The priest raised his hands to the sky and the couple rose, facing each other, smiling. Now came the time to aske the final questions. The priest turned to them and addressed them in French. Understanding him was no problem, since they had both taken French in school, but they spoke their French...hesitantly. Perhaps it was more of the nervousness of the two of them, the astoundingness of the fact that they would be married within a few moments, that this was the big moment. The priest turned to Dominic first and spoke.

"Monsieur Dominic Sorel, do you take Anemone Doolittle to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love and honor her in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, as long as you both shall live?" Dominic smiled, as Anemone knew full well the answer.

"I will."

"Madmoiselle Anemone Doolittle, do you take Dominic Sorel to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love and honor him in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, as long as you both shall live?" Anemone looked into Dominic's eyes, glistening and glinting in the light coming through the stained glass. She had known him ever since they were children. She had lived with him for the better part of her life, and had come to love him. Was there really any need to answer? It was so apparent already what she wanted. She smiled and drew closer to Dominic.

"I will."

"Then by the power vested in me in our mutual faith in the Lord, our God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Dominic took her soft cheeks in his hands and kissed her, softly at first, but then more deeply, closing the seal of their marriage. The thing they had been looking forward to all their young lives was now upon them. They were now wed. They were now Mr. and Mrs. Sorel, from this moment forward, forevermore. The priest then said a prayer, as the wedded couple broke apart and knelt, twinging with a slight annoyance that their kiss had to be interrupted, joining in the prayer.

"Lead us not into temptation o Lord. Bless these two young people with a longstanding union and may their lives be filled with your great love. Amen."

"Amen." They then rose and the priest blessed them, saying, "go forth in peace and may the eyes of God always keep watch over you." They nodded, said their Amen, and walked down the aisle, hand-in-hand, and out the front door. All rose and a shuffled out of the church to join their two friends, grabbing each other, and cheering, happy as can be.

"I can hardly believe it," Dominic said, holding Anemone close to him. "We're actually married now."

"You better believe," Anemone said smiling, "or I'll mess your hair up!" She then tried to get at his shaggy jet black hair, trying to muss it up to the laughter of everyone, even Dominic. Their friendly tussle was overcome with a tight embrace and a deep sealing kiss, a sign that they would never be apart.

"Happy now that you're..._hitched_, Lieutenant?" Renton said smiling. They looked to their chief, slightly blushing.

"Am I ever, chief!" Dominic said cheerily. All laughed as Jacques arrived with the battle report for the operation. The casualties for the British were high: half of the 29th Armoured Brigade's tanks had been lost, and combined with the other armored divisions, about 400 tanks were lost and infantry casualties were nearly as high as in previous operations; total casualties were approximately 5,500 British and Canadian soldiers killed or wounded. It was definitely a bloody marginal victory. Casualty rate for Jacques's force was 60 percent, 180 soldiers lost. All, however had been replaced, bringing the strength back up to 300, and further Resistance fighters from Caen would bring the force to 500. Jacques told Renton that he would be promoted to Major of a battalion of 250 men when they leave Caen. He would have to choose one of his platoon commanders to take over for the old first company, to command "Renton's Raiders". After a few weeks' rest, they would be heading for the city of Evreux someways from Paris, where they would train the new recruits and where Renton could make his decision of who to command.

"I'm a little broken-hearted at leaving my men, Jacques." Jacques laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, hopefully we can put another Renton Thurston in command of the company. I am surre you must have at least one of the platoon commanders in mind for the job." Renton looked over his commanders, joking and laughing with one another. He definitely had someone in mind. Two, actually. Holland and Dominic. But they had proven themselves so well, that he would need some time to think before he could make his decision.

"I do, but they have all proven themselves. I need to think about it until we get to Evreux."

"Of course, mon ami. Of course. Take your time, and rest up."

"Oui, Jacques." The two friends parted and Renton rejoined the others, taking part in their celebration for his lieutenant's marriage, not thinking on who should be promoted, only enjoying himself, knowing that this was only the beginning. The beginning of the end. They were one step closer to Paris and one step closer to going home.

Historical Postscript: Although Caen was securely in British hands at the end of Operation Goodwood, the seige was not over. Operation Spring was launched by the First Canadian Army on July 25th and lasted to July 27th, but it ended in a German defensive victory. On August 7th, the British and Canadians launched Operation Totalise, a followup of the American operation Cobra, which was launched in the lower Cotentin Peninsula in conjunction with Operation Goodwood, in Caen. By August 8th, the second day of Operation Totalise, the areas south and southeast of Caen were finally under British and Canadian control and the seige of Caen official ended. 99 percent of Caen had been destroyed, the only buildings left standing being the Cathedral and the Castle. Reconstruction of the city started soon after the seige, but it would not be until 1962 when the city of Caen was completely rebuilt.

_"If you know the enemy and yourself, victory is not at risk."---Sun Tzu, excerpted from The Art of War_

* * *

A/N: Whoo. That was long wasn't it? If that was a strain on your eyes, think how I feel. It took me more than seven hours to write that, from 9:30 in the morning to 5:45 in the afternoon. Well, this is the last chapter...for now. I'll be away at the National Student Leadership Conference for about two weeks, looking at the inside of Defense Intellegence Agency and the CIA and Pentagon, and touring around my home of Washington D.C. They allow us to check our email and so I'll probably be writing back to any responses you may have, and answering questions, but not much else. I'll be busy doing all the other stuff I just mentioned above. I will be back and writing by August 11th and will finish this. If you've reached this point in the story I give you my congrats cuz now you are close to the end of this story! Yayness. :-) Anyway, here's a preview of the next chap: 

_By mid-August, the force of Resistance fighters are now encamped around Evreux, a ways away from Paris. While in Evreux, the men are trained and reequipped, and Renton now must choose who will command his old company. Will it be Holland, his old friend from Russia and the former underground resistance leader, or will it be Dominic, his highly disciplined and quick-thinking friend from America and the civil volunteer at the Presidio Army base?_

That is all I can give you. If you want to say who you think it should be, don't hesitate to put it forth in your review. Come one come all, Dominic lovers and Holland lovers alike! Let us hear who you think it should be. Maybe I will be kind enough to oblige you in my next chap. ;-)

Anyway, until I come back from Washington, enjoy what I have so far and, as always read and review. By orders of Cap...(ahem)..._Major_ Thurston. I'll see you on August 11th!

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	26. Chapter 26: Promotions and Speeches

A/N:Hey gang! I'm back from the National Student Leadership Confenerce in Washington, and now I am going to finish this story. I want to thank you all for your patience. It really warms my heart to know that people still review even when I'm gone. We are very close to the end now, so enjoy the next chaps. Here's the fiirst.

* * *

_"When I give a man an office, I watch him carefully to see whether he is swelling or growing."---Woodrow Wilson_

**Chapter Twenty-six: Promotions and Speeches**

**August 15th, 1944**

**Evreux, France**

A hotel in Evreux had been kind enough to let Jacques, Renton and the other commanders use it as their headquarters and each of their rooms as offices, free of any charge. Renton sat in his little makeshift office, looking over after-action reports and special briefings, secretly contemplating the two promotions of his top two platoon commanders. He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been a tough decision, one that had taken him three weeks to make. Three weeks of trying to choose between two of your best friends can be tiring on a person. Incidents involving his two commanders made it only more difficult. One he remembered clearly happened on one of the last days of July...

_Flashback start_

Renton sat at a desk in his hotel room, looking over order of battle papers and recent reports when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," Renton said quietly. The door creaked open and in came Holland, carrying a small box in one hand.

"Hello, Renton. How are you feeling?" Holland asked his old friend, smiling. Renton smiled back tiredly.

"Weary. Choosing who to promote can be tough." Holland nodded knowingly. He had learned of Renton's promotion to major shortly after they left Caen. Now the harder task of deciding who would command the old First Company rested on Renton. Somehow, Holland knew he would choose between him and Dominic. There was no competition between him and Dominic, since each had their own business to attend to. "Now Holland, why have you come?"

"I've come to give you something." He handed Renton the box and Renton opened it slowly to find a medal. It was a gold star, 1½ inches in circumscribing diameter with a laurel wreath encircling rays from the center and a 3/16 inch diameter silver star superimposed in the center. The pendant was suspended from a rectangular shaped metal loop with rounded corners. The reverse had the inscription "FOR GALLANTRY IN ACTION." Renton looked to Holland in confusion.

"What is this, Holland?" Holland smiled lightly.

"It's the Silver Star. Renton, do you remember the fight on Hill 30, back in Carentan? You had chosen to not leave the lines and stay with us, despite your being badly wounded. I told you that day that I would make sure you got a medal. I think you deserved it for what you went through that day. It took me a long time to get that, what with us not really being in the military. I had to pull a lot of strings to get that!" Holland laughed. "Anyway, Renton, I think it's something only you deserve." Holland took the medal and pinned it to Renton's chest. He examined it, smiling. "Looks good on you, Renton."

Renton looked over the medal pinned to his chest, sitting next to his other medals: the Red Star, the Purple Heart and the Victoria Cross. "Nice little mementos for us to take home, eh, Holland?" The two laughed, and Holland pulled up a chair in front of Renton's desk.

"Decided who would command the First Company yet?" Renton smiled tiredly.

"You wish. Hard to choose between your two best friends." Holland put his hand on Renton's shoulder, smiling, grey eyes glinintg in the afternoon light.

"Well, Renton, whoever you choose, I am sure it will be the best choice. Everyone here is qualified to lead. They could all be given command!" Renton smiled, laughing.

"Then that would take all the fun out of the decision-making, wouldn't it? Holland, thank you for everything. There is no other commander here who has so proven himself."

"Take your time choosing, Renton. I'm sure you will make the right choice, whoever it turns out to be."

"Thanks, Holland."

_Flashback end_

Renton sighed, thinking back on what had passed between him and Holland that day. It had been a hard decision to make, but he was sure it was the right one. But now he was sure to upset one of his friends' hopes. He looked out the window of his hotel room and into the courtyard below and found Dominic, training some new recruits. He had them march around the town, trained them in manual of arms, and yelled at stragglers and slowpokes. Renton laughed. Dominic. One of the best men in this little army of irascibles. He was as qualified as any. He must've gotten a lot of good training from the men at the Presidio. Renton turned back to the reports and briefings, trying to find something he could give Dominic, for all the service he had done. He flipped through for a quarter of an hour, with no luck. He put his face in his hands, sighing, trying to think, when he spied a report.

In one of the last operations, Operation Totalise, when they captured all of the areas south of Caen, Olivier Rouche was killed in the assault on Bourgebus Ridge, the one that finally succeeded. Ever since then, no one in his Second Company had shown to be qualified to lead. Also the Second had suffered heavy casualties in the assault. 60 percent killed and wounded, all of whom had been replaced. It was now made of a bunch of raw green kids. They needed to be trained. Dominic could train them hard, without breaking them. The Second Company could go to him. It was perfect. He deserved a promotion for all he has done. Renton turned to the phone and called the lobby, where the nurses were lounging.

"Eureka, could you call up Holland and Dominic? It's very important that I speak to them."

"Yes, Renton. I'll call them up right now."

"Thank you." Renton hung up and sat at his desk, waiting for them to come. This was going to be hard, giving them a promotion and a new command. The deed itself won't be hard, but how to address will be more difficult, since he will be giving his First Company to only one of them. He chose the two of them out of all the others. Holland was a tough old bird, with lots of experience. He had commanded a resistance force of his own in Russia, when he helped Renton and Eureka escape. He led the 1st platoon in a daring charge at Hill 30. He was the first to advocate that they stay and look for Dominic when he went missing in the woods. His platoon risked life and limb bringing ammunition to the company on Hill 112. He fought bravely and brilliantly in Operation Goodwood. Dominic was hard and quick-thinking, intuitive. Had a lot of training from the Presidio. Was of pure military mind. He was wounded in the line of duty at Hill 30. He suffered at the hands of the SS in the woods. His platoon guarded the flank of the first company at Hill112, and paid a high price. He trained the men tirelessly during Renton's two weeks' leave. He fought hard and suffered much in Goodwood. They both deserved a promotion and a change of command. As Renton contemplated what he would say to them, in came Holland and Dominic.

Holland was dressed in his olive green overcoat and matching trousers with an embroidered red line running down the side of each leg, tucked into tall black boots. He grey hair and goatee seemed to shine as the sun hit his face. His eyes glinted, with the luster of a bayonet in the morning light. Dominic looked very professional. He wore an army green garrison cap, tan button-down shirt underneath his matching green jacket, buttoned and buckled, khaki officer's trousers and tall black boots. The two of them stood at attention, waitng for Renton to say something. He soon did.

"Be seated, gentlemen." The two of them pulled up a chair and sat, staring at their chief. Renton sighed inwardly thinking on what he must say. He still hadn't completely figured it out. To hell with it, he thought. Just tell them what must be done. "Dominic, Holland, as you both know, I have been promoted to battalion commander and I can no longer command the First Company. One of you must take over for me." They stayed silent, secretly wondering who would get the promotion. Would it be Dominic, the hard-trained American, or Holland, the hardened and experienced Russian and former resistance leader?

"I just want to preface," Renton siad solemnly, "by saying that this was a very tough decision for me to make, considering how both of you have proven yourselves since we came here in June. You two are the best commanders I have here. You've both performed valiantly and bravely in the months we've spent here, and I first want to thank you both for your service." The two officers nodded.

"Permission to speak, Major," Dominic spoke up. Renton recognized him with an indicative nod.

"Lieutenant."

"Major, I just want to say that it's been my pleasure and privelige to serve with you. There's no one I'd rather fight under."

"Thank you, Dominic. Now then, onto this...promotion business. Firstly, I am giving both of you a promotion to captain. My congratulations to both of you." The officers' expressions remained unchanged, save for a smile and a nod. "Secondly..." Renton turned to Holland. "Holland, I am giving you command of the First Company." Holland nodded, and Renton wrote out an order on a slip of paper. "You are to report to Company Headquarters and assume command of the First Company at three o'clock this afternoon. I am sure you will perform well under your new command." He handed Holland the slip of paper. Holland stood up and saluted his old friend, who returned the salute.

"Renton, I would like to recommend Rene to take over my old platoon, and I think you should address the men. Give them a sort of farewell before I assume command."

"I will do that, Holland. And I will give Rene the promotion after this meeting is over. You are dismissed." Holland nodded and gave him his thanks, and exited to join his new command. Renton sighed heavily. Half the job was done, Renton thought. Now he turned to Dominic, staring at him with a straight face. "Dominic, you will not go unrewarded. I promise." Dominic smiled slightly. "In the last operation, the Second Company lost its commander, Olivier Rouche. I have been looking at the platoon leaders, and, between you and me, I don't think any are ready to lead the company. Also, the Second Company has the highest number of replacements and I think they need a good two weeks' worth of training or so. Wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant?" Dominic nodded.

"Yessir."

"That is why I am giving you command of the Second Company. You're the best trainer I got in this battalion, and I got a whole company of green kids who want you to wipe their noses for them. Make them hard, but don't break them. You are to report to Second Company headquarters at three o'clock this afternoon and begin training. I want them to know all the moves so thoroughly that the men could perform them in their sleep. Understand?"

"Yessir, chief." The two of them smiled and saluted each other. Renton knew he had made the right choice. No one could be better qualified to lead the Second Company. "Renton, if I'm not gonna command my platoon anymore, then I would like to suggest that Nathan assume command. I think he's the best."

"So do I. He will get his promotion soon after you've assumed command." The two stood up and shook hands, smiling. "You're a good soldier, Dominic. I'd hate to lose you."

"Thanks, chief."

"You are dismissed...Captain Sorel." Dominic smiled and saluted, then walked out the door to report to the Second Company and begin training the men. Renton smiled inside as he leaned back in his chair, knowing that, although the choice was a difficult one, he had made the right one, and had the right people to lead. Now he had to worry about addressing his old comapny for the last time.

»»»»»

In the courtyard of the town, in front of the hotel, the First Company, "Renton's Raiders", had been gathered together to hear their old commander speak to them for the last time. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and Holland had assumed command of the company, to the joyous reception of the men. They all thought he was the right man for the job.

Holland had fromed up the men in a line of battle, like in days of old when men stood in open fields facing the enemy. They faced a large wooden platform, from which Renton would address the men one last time. Renton soon stepped onto the platform, dressed in his usual uniform and his saber at his side, tucked in its scabbard. As he walked onto the platform, Holland soon called out the order, "ATTENTION!" Heels clicked together in unison as Renton approached the center of the platform, so he could see the men of his old company. All stood intently at him, some with smiles to see their old leader, others with sad solemn faces, knowing this was the last time he would speak to them. Eureka, Anemone, Yvette and the other nurses looked to him with patience, waiting for him to speak his piece. Paul, the standard bearer, stood in the center of the line, clutching the flag and looking intently at his commander, knowing this was the last time he addressed him as company commander. Holland called them to stand at ease.

"FORWARD...REST!" The men stood at ease, hands over the muzzles of their rifles staring intently at their old commander. Renton sighed, as he went over what he was to say. He looked out to his old company, with a feeling of sadness. This was the last time he would address them as his first company. It was almost like saying goodbye to an old friend, knowing you would never see him again. He would miss being their captain. He was sure to say that to them. He took a deep breath and began, speaking seriously and intently.

"Throughout...the broad extent of this country through which you have marched...and by your respect for the rights and properties of others, you have shown, not just to me, but to your platoon leaders and to the rest of the world, that you are soldiers, not only ready to defend...but able and willing both to defend and protect. You have already won a brilliant and glowing reputation throughout the whole French Resistance, and I trust in the future by your deeds in the field and by the help of the same kind Providence that has hitherto favored us and our cause, you shall win more victories and add luster to the reputation all of you now enjoy. You have all gained a proud position...in the future history of this, the War of Liberation." All stood staring at him intently, not saying a word, only waitng for what more he had to say. Now he spoke his impromptu "farewell."

"I shall look with anxiety to your future movements...and I trust that whenever I hear of the First Company on the field of battle, it shall be of still nobler and braver deeds achieved, and of higher position and reputation won. You have never failed to show what man can do...and you have never failed to show what power raw courage can have."

He paused and pulled his saber from its scabbard and pointed it to the men, addressing them, tearfully. "In Napoleon's Grande Armée, you were the First Company! In the Great War of thirty years ago, you were the First Company! In the first battalion of this regiment, you _are_ the First Company! You ARE...the First Company..." he pressed the saber to his chest, "...in the affections of your major...and I sincerely hope that by your future deeds and valor, you will be handed down through posterity...as the First Company...in this, our War of Liberation!" He paused, as a tear ran down his cheek, feeling a great deal of sadness that he had to leave his men. He would leave them in good hands though. Holland would not let him down. He brought the saber away from his chest and outstretched the arm holding it, bringing it toward the sky, glinting in the late afternoon light. He then said his last words to his old company.

"Good luck men, and Godspeed!"

The men cheered and yelled, tossing their caps in the air, and Paul waved the old tricolour as Renton placed the saber back in its scabbard and walked off the platform. As he walked past the line back to his office in the hotel, the men cheered and chanted his name.

"THURSTON! THURSTON! THURSTON! THURSTON!" He turned to the men and waved his cap as a last goodbye and went inside, listening with a smiled to the cheers and yells of the men. I've done the right thing, he thought. I've left them in good hands. I know I have.

_"The hope, and not the fact, of advancement, is the spur to industry."---Sir Henry Taylor_

* * *

A/N: I just want to thank you again for your patience. If you have questions on what happened during the NSLC, don't hesitate to give me a ring or drop me a line. Your patience has finally paid off. Here's the next chapter. 

_After almost three months of fighting and suffering and death, our heroes are now ready to assault the city of Paris, alongside the Free French Second Armored Divsion. But who will fall in this last battle?_

You'll just have to wait until next time. Until then, read and review. And thank you again for your diligence and patience. It gets me here. (pounds heart and smiles)

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	27. Chapter 27: Covered With Glory

A/N: This is it...the last battle. The end of this chapter will be bitter. Prepare yourselves men. This is the last fight.

Warning: Blood, violence, and character deaths in this chapter. You have been warned.

* * *

_"Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country."---George S. Patton_

**Chapter Twenty-seven: Covered with Glory**

**August 25th, 1944**

**Paris, France**

After spending their weeks of rest in Evreux, Jacques' regiment linked up with the Free French 2nd Armored Division, commanded by Jacques' idol, General Phillipe Leclerc. The division had recently been transferred from the U.S. Third Army commanded by Renton's idol, General George Patton. There was news of an uprising in Paris, by fellow members of the French Resistance. Allied strategy emphasized destroying German forces retreating towards the Rhine, but when the French Resistance under Henri Rol-Tanguy staged an uprising in the city, General Charles de Gaulle threatened to send the Division into Paris, single-handedly, to prevent the uprising being crushed as had recently happened in Warsaw. Eisenhower agreed to send help. Delayed by combat and poor road conditions, General Leclerc sent a small advance party to enter Paris under the command of Captain Raymond Dronne, with the message that the Second Armored would be there in 24 hours, along with the U.S. Fourth Infantry Division. Jacques' men chose to enter with Dronne...

**Somewhere in the streets of Paris**

The men, mingling with the tanks of Dronne's force, advacned slowly through the streets of Paris, the city of lights, the Capital of the World, City of beauty. Each got to see the sights as they slowly advanced, spotting such landmarks as the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Conciergerie, and the tomb of Napoleon. Dronne's advance party consisted of armored cars and Sherman tanks. In the French tradition, the vehicles were named: armored cars Guadalajara, Madrid, Ebro, (some of his men were Spanish veterans of the Spanish Civil War) and Sherman tanks Montmirail, Romilly and Champaubert. Jacques' men, 500 strong, veterans of three months of fighting, from Carentan to Caen, now were in the city of Paris, and fought with hardened determination as each knew this was the last battle.

_(cue the song Sakura aka Cherry Blossom by NIRGILIS)_

Holland led the old first company in the lead, in front of the tanks, coming under heavy fire as they encountered heavy machine guns from the buildings. The only way to silence the guns were to take the buildings by storm. Dronne's tanks were on strict orders not to destroy any property. Holland and a picked force of men charged into each building, killing each German with a crack, a bang, a spatter of blood, and a quick waving of the French flag to signify that the building had been captured, and was back in the hands of France. His force advanced steadily through the streets until they came to a street corner, guarded by two MG42 crews, lodged in a sidestreet cafe. The men were soon pinned down behind a wall.

Holland turned to the old first company, filled with hardened veterans, the company once led by Renton. He turned to Rene, now in command of the first platoon. He was once his best sergeant. Now he was a lieutenant, in command of his old platoon. He would take care of this.

"Someone! Throw a smoke grenade! Quick!" A daring man pulled out a smoke grenade and threw it, and smoke filled the street. "Rene! Take your platoon and knock out those MGs! the rest of the company, follow me!" Rene and his platoon, with Paul in the lead carrying the flag, quickly went into the cafe and killed the two MG42 crews, as the rest of Holland's force ran through the streets and forward, with the tanks Montmirail and Romilly, advancing with one goal: the German commandant's headquarters at the Hotel Meurice. Renton was right. Holland could not be more qualified to lead the old first company. On their flank, one street over, Dominic was having a tough time, but advancing steadily...

Every block was covered with MG42s. Dominic's men were taking heavy casualties, but none turned and ran. They were better trained than that. No retreat, not when we are so close! We are in Paris now, men! The capital of our country, the beating heart! Not one step back! Forward! Dominic had to commit his whole second company to clear out all the buildings, and even clearing them took a lot out of the men. He escorted Nathan's platoon into one building, three stories tall, to clear out an MG crew perched on the top floor. There were Germans everywhere they looked. They attacked them, swinging their rifles like clubs, but a quick spatter of gunfire and bullets through the head and heart sent them to the floor, blood seeping from their wounds, turning their faces and grey uniforms red. They headed up to the top floor, where they found the machine gunners. The MG crew tried to reface the gun, but the men, determined not to let them destroy a beautiful Parisian home, put bullets through their chest and sent them through the window and to the ground below. They hit the ground with a thud and crack. Blood poured out from where they fell and covered the street. The men looked down to the gruesome scene, only to be called by Dominic, "don't waste time, men! We got a lot more houses to clear!" They ran down the stairs to join the rest of the force advancing forward, with the tank Champaubert and the armored cars Guadalajara, Madrid, and Ebro behind them, with the intent on linking up with Holland's men at the road junction and advance to the rallying point in a wooded park, some ways from the Hotel Meurice. Many of these men were under fire for the first time, and their steadiness and gallantry were remarkable.

"C'mon, boys!" Dominic shouted to the second company as they plodded through the dead-strewn streets. "One more push and the war is over! Follow me, boys, to victory!"

Where was Renton in all of this?

He was right there with them...sort of. He was following Holland's men from behind, trying to keep up with them as best he could. He was carrying a heavy mapcase, running through the streets trying to catch up to Holland's men as they advanced closer and closer to the street intersection. Once Holland and Dominic had linked up at the junction, they will advance to the wooded park and set up defensive positions until the Second Armored and Fourth Infantry would join them. It would take a while, but with Dronne's tanks, and the French Resistance fighters from the city, they could hold off the Germans long enough. He was sure of it. They soon came to the intersection and the men scattered to defensive positions as the Germans tried to root them out and as the two company commanders saluted and greeted their battalion commander.

"How goes it, boys?" Renton asked, through the pall and smoke and noise. The two of them smiled and gave the old familiar answer.

"Passin' well, passin' well!" Holland and Dominic yelled. "This is the endgame, Renton! this is what three months of fighting has brought us!"

"You said it, fellas! I want both of you to take your forces and set up a perimeter..." He pointed in the direction of the park. "...over there."

"Right away, chief!" Dominic said, and yelled to his men. "Okay boys! Follow me this way! Everybody follow me! This way!" The second company started to leave their positions towards the park, and Holland, along with Dronne's armored advance party soon followed in kind.

"First company! Take up defensive positions at the park! Let's move!" Renton, still carrying the heavy mapcase, followed the tanks and Holland's force to the park, where he would set up a temporary defensive position until more units of the Second Amored came up. He looked a couple streets over and he could see the men of the second battalion, the highly disciplined men from Caen, advancing steadily towards the park where they would set up a defense on Renton's flank. REnton smiled, as he knew that now victory was closer than ever, and the long trip home within reach...

They entered the park and the regiment took up defensive positions covering every street entrance into the park. The first battalion took positions covering entrances to the left and front and the second battalion coverd the entrances from the right. One tank and armored car were assigned to cover each entrance, so any tank would be met with a warm reception. The bazooka crews were up in front of the tanks, in support. They could blast Panzers to bits with one shot from their bazookas. The little salient could hold for a while, a long while, until more support form the Second Armored and Fourth Infantry came up, which it would soon. Renton was soon joined by Jacques, wearing a smile that ran from ear to ear.

"Well, Jacques, it looks like this is the last fight, huh?" Renton said, smiling as he pulled out the map from its case.

"Oui, mon ami, it certainly does. But this last fight is sure to be our best! Covered with glory! Don't you think so, Renton?"

"I do, Jacques. I do." Renton looked at his pocketwatch and then turned to Jacques anxiously. "When do those reinforcements get here!?" Jacques looked at his watch.

"They should be coming within the hour. I'd give it about 45 minutes and then we can start our assault on Hotel Meurice." The two of them looked off into the distance and saw the grand prize: Hotel Meurice, not 15 blocks down, where the commandant, General Dietrich von Choltitz was holed up and still issuing orders to the Germans fighitng in the city. If he is captured, all fighting will cease. Renton laid out the map and looked over the positions. They were holding good so far, and the Second Armored and Fourth Infantry would most likely use the same roads his men and Dronne's tanks used. The only thing they had to do now was hold the position. He walked the line of the first battalion, encouraging the men as they shot down Germans by the score as they came at them, and as their tanks were blown to bits. There would be no turning back, not from the city of Paris, the beating heart of France. Many men fell, bleeding from where they were hit, screaming in pain or crying for thier mother, only to be carried away to the temporary aid station and treated by Anemone and Eureka. Renton, now seemingly at the height of his career as a soldier, longed to see her and confide in her and tell her all these feelings he felt. The feelings of victory, triumph, the sense that the fight would soon be over and they could all go home. But she was busy enough with the wounded, and he was busy enough checking the lines, making sure there were no holes and no one trying to run. He soon came to Holland and Dominic and he sat next to them, firing at each German as they came at them.

"This is the last fight, Renton!" Holland called through the noise and chaos. "I can feel it in my bones. This is our last fight, and it will be our best fight."

"Oh, it will be our best fight!" Dominic yelled as he fired his BAR. "Any fight in Paris is the best fight!" He laughed as he poured a living sheet of fire into the oncoming Germans. The pale concrete streets were quickly turning red with blood, as it ran in little rivers through the streets and alleys. Every German was shot down, every Panzer turned to a pile of smouldering metal and gasoline, and, as the Germasn tried to bring up AT guns to support the assault, they too were soon subjected to the fire of the first battalion. They AT guns were captured and brought back to the lines, strengthening the lines against armored attacks.

"Keep it up, boys!" Renton said encouragingly. "Keep it up!" He fired a few quick sprays from his Thompson, killing more than a dozen Germans as they came on. They had to hold on, at least until the armor and infantry came up. It won't be long now. Soon we can begin our last assault. One more attack and the battle will be over.

The fighting soon became general all along the line. Each man showed bravery in his own unique way. Men fought and died where they stood, bleeding from wherever they were shot. Some shot in the arm, some in the shoulder, some in the face, and some in the head. Blood ran through the streets in rivers, turning the grey concrete streets a forbidding, heart-wrenching crimson red. Everywhere one turned, the fighting seemed to be the same. Attack, repulse, another attack, and another repulse. The Germans came charging towards the lines, but the men, safely behind the metal fences and park benches as cover, shot down each German as he came up, blew each panzer to bits as they tried to pierce the line. The men poured in a living sheet of fire and each attack was stoppped cold. The Germans hesitated and advanced slower, trying to kill as many French as they could, trying to create a hole to exploit. Every hole made was soon filled and every attempt to breach the line foiled. The Germans retreated and then came back as soon as they had gone. No luck then either. That attack line fell back, only to be replaced by another and another. Each line broke and ran, as did the first, and they still came back, seeminlgy undaunted. The bodies of dead on both sides were rapidly piling up. Renton and the men fired like the devil, as if the army of Hell, led by Satan himself was coming straight at them. Courage was displayed on both sides. All were sure to get a medal for their bravery. They were to get medals just for taking part in the battle! Each man would get his just reward by battle's end.

_(cue Niji by Denki Groove from Episode 50)_

Renton, still walking the line encouraging his men, soon heard a sound, a large rumbling noise, coming up from behind where he stood. He pulled out his binoculars and saw them, coming up in a long line, up from the streets where they came and hitting the German lines as they tried to escape. They were tanks from the Second Armored, and the infantry of the Fourth Infantry Division coming up form behind. The reinforcments has arrived. Thank God, Renton thought, sighing with relief. Now we can finish this thing. Dominic and Holland soon joined him, looking on at the glorious sight of the tanks pursuing the retreating Germans.

"Fellas," Renton said, putting away his binoculars, "it's a hell of a war." The two captains nodded knowingly.

"It's been a pleasure to serve with you, Renton," Dominic said, smiling calmly.

"Well, God willing, we'll do what we came here to do. Prepare to move out." Renton then strode alone to the front, toting his Garand rifle as the others looked on, eyeing him with a sense of strange awe and a knowing feeling that soon it will be over.

"It seems he's really changed since we came here in June," Dominic said.

"Or maybe," Holland suggested, crossing his arms, "it's just that _we've_ all changed since we came here in June." Dominic nodded thoughtfully and the two captains turned to their respective companies.

"ALL RIGHT MEN! FIX BAYONETS AND FOLLOW THE MAJOR!" They both called. He was to be in the lead. It seemed only fitting. All the men rose from the firing line and advanced, following their battalion commander, walking slowly through the streets, mingling with the tanks of the Second Armored. They all kept their eyes on the target. The Hotel Meurice, where the commandant lay. All that needed to be done was take the hotel and capture the general and the fight was over. They advanced, clearing the buildings as they went, apporaching closer and closer, with Renton at the head of the whole force.

Renton looked back, and was surprised to see the men, the tanks, the nurses, all of the people he knew and loved following him in the final assault. He smiled, knowing that this was the fight to the finish. Soon it would be over. He turned back to the front and pulled his saber from its gold scabbard, pointing it towards the hotel, guiding the force by the point of his sword. Paul, carrying the tricolour he had carried with him through three months of fighting, from Carentan, through the woods, through the ruins of Caen, to here, in the beautiful city of Paris, soon ran up to join him, smiling and saying, "Lead on, Renton. Lead on." Renton nodded and they marched on to the Hotel, victory seemingly in their grasp. Soon, however, MG42s and AT guns opened up from the Hotel. It was obviously heavily guarded. Renton was hit in the left leg as the whole regiment scattered and three tanks were hit by AP shells form the German AT guns. He felt no real pain in the leg, so it could not have been a bad wound. No time to dwell on what damage has been done, though. We must move. Renton knew they could not stay here. The attack must conitnue, regardless of the fire. He stood up, waved his sword and yelled to the men.

"FRENCH COMPATRIOTS! WE WILL NOT RETREAT FROM THE BEATING HEART OF OUR HOME COUNTRY! WE SHALL STAY! NOW WHO WILL COME WITH ME?" Renton ran on into the hail of fire his sword held high in the air and glinting in the sun, followed quickly by Paul, carrying his standard high, the sun streaking through the red white and blue of the tricolour. Dominic and Holland, encouraged by his sheer bravery, smiled and turned to the men of their respective companies.

"PUSH FORWARD, MEN!" The captains rose and charged, bayonets glinting, roaring at the top of their lungs. The whole force, of its own notion, and of one accord, rose and advanced, loading and firing at will, unmindful of the horrible and deadly fire being poured into its ranks. The tanks then followed, with one tank carriyng the tricolour in the lead. It was truly a courageous and brilliant sight to behold.

Renton charged on, his sword held high in the air for all to see, closer and closer to the Hotel. Paul charged right alongside him, carrying the tricolour, holding it high, as a marker for the force to follow. They were now within ten blocks and they were now joined by Jacques, carrying his Thompson, and coming up behind Paul, saying, "charge on! Charge on! Pour la France! Pour la Republique! Charge!" They were now within five blocks and closing, Panzers being blown, men falling with more than a dozen bullets in their chests, blood pouring in streams and turning the paved streets and sidewalks red. Still the men charged on shouting at the top of their lungs. Then, with more than twenty bullets whizzing through him and blood instantly spraying form his wounds...

Paul falls.

He doubled up to the sky, throwing the flag into the air as he fell backwards and hit the ground on his back without a word, dead. Everything else seemed to slow down as Paul fell dead. Paul, the reliable and faithful flagbearer, the man who had served with the force for three months, lay dead. Not a word. Not a goodbye to his old chief. At the last! Just at the last! Just at the last, he had to die! There's no time to grieve now, Renton thought, as a tear ran down his cheek, looking back at the dead body of his old friend. They must keep moving forward. He then seemed to hear Paul say to him, "don't let up now. Get those Germans, Renton. Capture the general, so we can end this thing." Renton nodded and commited himself in an instant to the task at hand. Renton ran to grab the flag, to take it and lead his men onward. Just as he was about to touch the flag, Jacques grabbed it and ran on, as Renton fell to the ground. He looked to Jacques, hair streaking in the wind, flag clutched in his hands, running onward toward the hotel, amidst the cheers of the men. Renton got up, grabbed his sword and ran, following Jacques, closer and closer to the hotel. Now they were within three blocks. Two. One. Gather your strength and charge on! Then, just as they were withing 50 meters of the hotel...

Jacques is hit.

More than thirty bullets zipped through his chest, blood spraying from where he was hit, running in streams as he fell backwards, tossing the flag in the air. Renton, seeimgnly unmindlful of what he had to do, ran to Jacques to hear a last word, a last order, a final goodbye, anyhting. He caught the flag and the men ran around him as he held Jacques and tried to hear what he said to him.

"Renton...I'm going fast. I feel I am going, so don't try to change my mind about that. Nothing can stop it now. But do me one thing. When you go back to St. Come, tell my father…I died for France."

"I will tell him, Jacques," he said as he took off his cap and pressed it to his heart, the sadness building up inside him. "I will tell him." He and Jacques then turned their attention to the men, charging onward into the Hotel, firing their rifles and submachine guns. The Germans in the windows were hit and fell, breaking the window panes and casting them into the air, shining like diamonds. They each hit the ground with a thud and a crack of their spines, and the blood slowly poured from under them turning the steps to the hotel a dark red. The spattering of gunfire continued as Jacques grabbed Renton's shirt collar, and spoke to him, coughuing up blood on what might be his last words.

"Renton...take that flag...and plant it on the top of the hotel. That's...an order." Renton nodded and took the flag, running to the hotel. He reached a fire escape on the outside and ran up the stairs. He reached the top and climbed up the walls as best he could, holding the flag, until finally he reached the roof and soon found a place to plant it. He pounded the flag into the socket on the roof using his rifle, and saw it fluttering. The tricolour, the red white and blue of the Old Republic. Renton wept quietly as he went down the fire escape and back to Jacques, to tend to him and hear what might be the last time he will ever speak to him.

"Merci, Renton Thurston...mon ami," Jacques choked, coughing blood.

"De rien, Jacques Debusset. Mon ami." Jacques looked to the flag flying high, hearing the men cheer form inside the hotel, reveling in the feeling and moment all soldiers dreamed of: triumph, a final victory. Paris was back in French hands. The two wept for a moment as they sat in the realization of the final victory. Jacques grabbed Renton's shirt collar and pressed him closer. "Vive la France, Jacques." Jacques nodded and said, weakly...

"Vive la liberté. Renton, I'm happy you came, and I'm happy I got to see you one last time. Aur revoir, Renton...mon ami. I'll see you in Paradise."

He closed his eyes and died.

As Renton lay his body back on the ground, he hung his head and cried, seeing Jacques, his good friend, the best friend he had in this country, dead. The two captains and Eureka and Anemone came outside and saw Renton, hunched over Jacques' body, facing away from them, crying his heart out. They ran out to join him as the men in the hotel took away the captured General Von Choltitz to a jeep, carrying General Leclerc, which drove away. As they tried to get close to him, he spoke.

"Leave me. All of you. Just leave me!" They backed away and let him cry out his sadness and grief. Dominic spoke to the little saddened group.

"I've never seen him cry like that. Not for his friends, not for his family...not for anyone." Eureka shook her head solemnly, as a tear ran down her cheek, secretly joining Renton.

"You're wrong. He's crying for all of them." A stretcher soon came to pick up Jacques and Paul, and they were taken away, leaving Renton alone. Jacques was gone. His old friend...now among God's army. There was nothing left for them here now. He rose and faced his little band of friends, looking on with solemn sad faces. Renton gulped and wiped his eyes on his trenchcoat sleeve, sniffing. As he cried his heart out to them, the men of the force and all the citizens of Paris cheered as the bells of Notre Dame rang for the first time in four and a half years, marking the end of occupation and the beginning of freedom for the French people. The people he and his friends helped liberate. Oh God, he thought. Irony's played a cruel joke on us this time. We brought freedom to millions, but my best friend in this country has been taken away form me.

"Fate can be such a cruel and unforgiving mistress.," Renton said solemnly. "Isn't that right, fellas?" No one spoke. Renton shook his head solemnly, sending his brown hair into dancing with the summer wind, thinking over all that had happened. I've spent three months here, he thought to himself. Three months commanding a force I was never fully ready to lead. Three months watching my men, my family, kill and be killed. Three months wishing it would stop. Now it's all over, and the big question is what are we going to do now? "We gave freedom to so many, but someone very dear to us has been taken away. That's irony, isn't it, fellas? What're we gonna do now, boys? What're we gonna do? The Liberation is complete. France has been returned to the French. Now, we the liberators fade into the background. No longer important. No longer needed."

Renton turned away and looked down the road, leading out of the city. He sighed, still letting the shock of Jacques' death sink in. "Captain Novakov." Holland stepped forward silently. "Call the first company and have them form a marching column along this road. Captain Sorel, have the second fall in behind the first. Also tell the second battalion commander to form his men up behind us. We'll be moving out in a quarter of an hour...I hope." All nodded and went to their respective commands, leaving Renton alone, still thinking on the deaths of his two friends. I'll miss you Jacques, he thought. I'll miss you, and all here. Duty called, and we answered. All of us. We've done our part, and done our duty. Now, we're going home. The men of the first and second companies slowly formed up along the road in their marching columns, and the second battalion fell in behind them. Renton walked to the front of the regiment, sword sheathed in its scabbard, followed closely by Holland and Dominic. He was now at the head, flanked on both sides by his captains. They stood still for a long time, waiting to hear from Renton the order to move.

"Are you okay, chief?" Dominic asked finally. Renton sighed heavily. He turned to Dominic, his eyes glistening with tears for his last two friends, now dead.

"Our job here is done, Dominic," Renton said quietly. "Let's go home."

"Right, chief." Renton then turned to his men, looking on at him solemnly, knowing that Jacques was dead, and Renton ought to assume command.

"FIRST REGIMENT!" Renton shouted, his voice cracking. "FORWARD...MARCH!" The men then marched through the town, to the open fields that lay beyond, to St. Come in the west, to Belleforest, to home. Renton never spoke to anyone that whole day after they left. Not to Holland, not to Dominic, not even to his wife, Eureka. He was completely lost, absolutely stricken with sadness, grief and disbelief that Jacques and Paul were now dead. The fact alone repeated itself in his head. Jacques and Paul were dead. Jacques and Paul were dead. There was nothing left for him and his friends here. The only thing they could do now was lead the force back to St. Come, where they had started three months before, and go home to Belleforest.

Eureka came up to him at one point in the long march, and tried to get him to speak.

"Eureka...fate's dealt us a bad hand this time," Renton said solemnly. Eureka said nothing. She only looked on at her saddened husband, hanging his head low, cap lazily pulled over his eyes. "There's nothing left for us here to return to. All of the people I ever knew here are gone. All we can do now is go back to St. Come, say goodbye, and catch that big boat home. Isn't that right...Eureka?"

Eureka said nothing. She never heard him talk like this before. He seemed so...hopeless. As if he has just given up, fed up with everything.

"Eureka, don't ever encourage me to do this again. I don't know if I can take anymore of it. This fighting is getting to me." Renton sighed heavily, completely lost. "I'm tired Eureka. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighitng, tired of war, and tired of seeing people die. I'm tired of playing soldier. This isn't fun anymore. I'm tired of playing the hero. I just want to go home."

"That's what all of us want, Renton. We all just want to go home." Renton nodded.

"Dear God, why is it that the good must always die young? Why must they always be called first to go? Do you know...Eureka? Do you know why the good die young?" Eureka shook her head. "I didn't think so. I don't think any of us do. Is it fate? Is it because of luck or chance? Is it simply their wish? I don't know, and I doubt if anyone else does. The good always die young. That's a sad fact of life, Eureka. Something I never really understood before we came here. Boy, was I stupid back then."

"Don't worry about that now, Renton. Jacques' death will be justified, just as all the others' deaths will be justified. They didn't die in vain, Renton. They died fighting for something greater, just as we have been fighitng for something greater. Let's just try to focus on getting home."

"I guess you're right. Oh, God. Eureka. I don't want to do something like this again. I'm getting too old for this business."

"We'll be going home, Renotn. We won't have to do this again. Renton..._when_ will we come home?"

"I'd say that within a week's time, we'll be back in Belleforest. Does that sound good to you...Eureka?"

"Yes, Renton. That sounds just fine for me."

"Glad to hear it." Renton put his arm around his wife and slowly kissed her as they conitnued to march along the road, towards Caen, towards St. Come, towards that place that all soldiers long for after all...home.

_"It's not greed and ambition that make wars—it's goodness. Wars are always fought for the best of reasons, for liberation or manifest destiny, always against tyranny and always in the best interests of humanity. So far [in this war, we've managed to butcher some 10,000,000 people in the interest of humanity. The next war, it seems we'll have to destroy all of man in order to preserve his damn dignity."---Paddy Chayefsky_

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A/N: I don't know about you, but I cried as I wrote this. Jacques and Paul, the last of Renton's friends from France, are now dead. Sad. :'-( War is cruel, isn't it? Here's a preview of the last chapter. 

_Almost all of the people Renton knew and loved in France are now gone, and there is nothing left for him and his band of friends there. Now, in early September, on a cold foggy night, the weary travelers return home. What waits for them there and what questions will be asked?_

Until next time read and review, as always. Goodnight, my friends, and sleep well.

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


	28. Chapter 28: A Hero's Return

A/N: This is the last chapter. Thank you all for your hours of reading and reviewing. I am happy to know that people are interest in a retelling of history. Enjoy. ;-)

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_"We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character."---Henry David Thoreau _

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Hero's Return **

**September 2nd, 1944 **

**9:30 pm, somewhere in the western United States **

It took them nearly a week to get to where they are now. They had led the force back to St. Come, said goodbye to all, and buried Paul and Jacques. Renton came out tearfully to Jacques' father about the misfortune that had befallen him, saying he died honorably for his country.

"He was leading us in a storm on the HQ," Renton explained. "He was out in front carrying a flag. He died doing a brave thing. I'm sorry I couldn't look out for him."

"He always was the bold one," Jacques' father said knowingly. " Renton, I'm proud of you; you did your best and no one can blame you for that. You and Jacques were very brave for risking your lives to fight the war. All of you brought back freedom to those who had none. I'm proud of you all."

Dominic told Rosette about Jean-Paul's death on Hill 112 saying that the one thing that gave him comfort was that he had her to come back to. All spoke their pieces to different people, fulfilling promises made to dying friends and dying comrades. Nothing was left for them now but to return home.

Now, they all sat in the lounge car of the train that would take them home, trying to regain their thoughts and think over what had happened in the last three months. One burning question on everyone's mind was, "What have we learned?" No one knew. Finding the answer to that question was to try and find a needle in a haystack. All anyone could have learned was that in war, people don't just win or lose. People die. People die for different reasons, but in this war they died for a nobler cause, a nobler fight. The fight for freedom. Freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear. That was what this War of Liberation was all about, and maybe, just maybe, that was something worth dying for. That was what they learned.

Renton sat quietly, grasping a cane given to him by a kind Frenchman before they left. That wound in his left leg made him limp a little when he walked, and so he needed a cane. He looked out the window, watching the countryside whiz by, occasionally passing a light or a series of lights that usually meant they passed a farm or village or a town. He sat, a brown thatch of his hair hanging over his face, his flat cap shoved in his pocket, lost in thought, trying to think and ponder over all that had transpired in three months. He had been the leader of a company of men. He fought alongside the British and Americans in Normandy. He fought with the Free French forces under DeGaulle in the Battle for Paris. He had seen almost all of the friends he had in France die. The names of the dead repeated themselves, like a casualty list being read to the people. Charles Beames. Ray Madalena. Jean-Baptiste Turat. Jean-Paul Durette. Alain. Hector. Gérard. Paul. Jacques Debusset. All of them good friends of his. He even lost a new friend in Stoner. Now they were all gone, among God's Army.

"You okay, chief?" Dominic asked, sitting across from him. Renton did not answer. He only leaned his head against the window and continued to look out into the dark autumn night.

"Would you be okay after you've seen all your friends die?" Renton said sadly.

"Can't say that I would." Renton slid his head against the window, still feeling a great deal of sadness that he left so many behind, all dead. " Renton, what have we learned?"

"I don't know, Dominic. It'll take us the rest of our lives to find the answer. All I think I've learned is that I'll never forget what I've seen. As long as I live."

"Amen to that." Dominic closed his eyes, as did Renton, to try and sleep, to try and think and rethink all that had passed between them and the others during their three months in Normandy. Anemone and Eureka looked on from the other side of the lounge car, thinking it best to leave the boys alone to gather their thoughts.

"Do you think Renton will be alright?" Eureka asked Anemone.

"I don't think any one of us will ever be 'all right' again. Not after what we've been through." Eureka nodded, knowingly, seeing fully the extent of what damage had been done to her husband. He was scarred. Badly. No one would be all right after all that. He was scarred for life, not just on his body, but in his mind.

Holland sat by himself, about two seats in front of Renton and Dominic. His grey hair was smoothed out, his small goatee barely noticeable. He was secretly thinking not about what had happened in France, but about that girl he met when he was captured by the Red Shirts. That girl that helped him escape. That girl with the strange name. Talho.

_Flashback start _

**May 21st, 1943 **

**Somewhere in northern California, 30 miles from Belleforest**

"Get up!" the soldier called. Holland stirred, but did not rise from his cell bunk. The soldier aroused him by beating him on the back with the butt of his rifle. "I said get up, you piece of filth!"

"Kiss my ass," Holland grumbled.

"What was that?!" He hit him again across the back, knocking him off his bunk. Holland fell to the concrete floor of the cell and looked up at the soldier. He wore a red long-sleeve shirt with a yellow hammer and sickle embedded on the breast pocket. His trousers were an olive green with a red stripe down the side of either leg. The trousers were tucked into his tall black boots. There wasn't an ounce of feeling in his expression. Only the murderous stare given by one of Stalin's henchmen. "Another one of those smart remarks and I'll make sure Dewey puts you up in front of a firing squad! Now get up, and get going! We have a lot of work to do today!"

Holland rose uneasily and walked out of the cell, being followed closely by the Red Shirt and other slave laborers. There were hundreds of them. Literally hundreds. They walked out of the prison camp and began digging trenches for the soldiers. There was no telling when the Red Shirt camp might be discovered so they needed to prepare their defenses. They made their base in the middle of a forest, far north of Belleforest, escaping the detection of the American Army. All the same, they must be ready for anything. Holland took his place next to Talho Yukieva, a dark-haired Russian immigrant who had been captured by the Red Shirts shortly after getting her citizenship. She was placed in the prison camp, and met Holland shortly after he was captured. They had been in the camp for more than three months, and they had already grown fond of each other. For weeks now, they had been planning to escape and get help.

"Where will you go, though?" Talho asked under her breath worriedly. "You don't know anyone here do you?"

"One boy. Lives in Belleforest, south of here. He brought my sister here to live. Renton Thurston."

"Renton Thurston? The boy who fought in Stalingrad?"

"The same. He can help us."

"Just him? What can he do though?"

"He has many friends. I am sure they will help. We must let everyone know of what is happening. We need all the help we can get."

"No question of that." A guard passed by and heard them chatting. He immediately swung his rifle around and pointed it at the two of them.

"HEY! NO TALK! GET BACK TO WORK! DIG! DIG!" They dug faster and the guard passed them. They waited until he was out of earshot before talking again.

"Talho," he whispered with urgency, "we have to do it tonight."

"Tonight at sunset, then."

"Yes. Sunset."

Hours passed and suppertime came. What little supper could be had, that is. It was living in a prison. How anyone could bear it without going mad was beyond anyone's means of comprehension. No one could stand to live like that. The plan was set: Talho would create a diversion that attracted the guards while Holland would escape through the then unguarded entrances. Before the plan was put into action, Holland and Talho gave each other a last goodbye.

"I'll come back," Holland said, his grey eyes unflinching in the fading evening light. "I'll come back with help. I promise." He gave her a soft kiss on the lips and just before she went out to start the diversion, she turned to him.

"I'll be waiting, Holland. I'll be waiting for you. I'll wait a hundred years if I have to." Holland smiled and nodded and she left to distract the guards. He ran, out the exit, out of the forest, to try and contact Renton or Eureka or anyone. I'll miss you, Talho, he thought. Wait for me.

_Flashback end_

That was the last time he saw her. He never worked up the courage to tell Renton about who Talho was or who the Red Shirts were and what their diabolical plans were. His health prevented him; he suffered at the murderous torture of the Red Shirts, being subject to beatings, whippings, bruisings. His torn shoulder had not completely healed until now. there were still the remnants of numerous whiplashes across the face and cuts and tears by the murderous guards. When I get the chance, Holland thought, I must tell him. When the time is right, we must act. Talho can't last much longer. He stood up from his seat and went to where Renton sat, to speak to him, to jostle him out of his depressed state.

He found him sleeping peacefully by the window, flat cap covering his face. His cane was grasped firmly in his hands, his trenchcoat loosely covering him. Dominic sat on the other side, opposite him, stretched across two empty chairs. His army green garrison cover was pulled down over his face, his uniform unbuttoned, exposing his clean white dress shirt and green tie. He had taken off his tall black boots, showing off his dark long socks. Holland looked to the other side and found his sister Eureka and her friend Anemone sleeping peacefully, their heads resting against the window. He smiled, seeing all sleeping peacefully, seemingly unaware of all the terror and horror that had befallen them over the past three months. They let their country on a noble quest to help Renton's friends in a war-torn country. They helped them, all right, and did more. So much more! They helped bring freedom to millions, helped free a country from the Nazis, took part in the Great Crusade, the War of Liberation. They freed many, but lost many insodoing. Their sacrifices will be justified in future battles and in the victory of the Allies over the Nazis. He was sure of it. He went back to his seat and checked his watch: 10:45 pm. They would be home within the hour.

He spoke too soon.

The train slowed and ground to a halt, pulling into San Francisco's Union Station. The engine let off steam with a large wheeeesh, and then came the roaring of cheers and yells, welcoming home the brave heroes. All had known that since Paris was captured, their beloved Renton and his friends would be coming back, and they were to give them a warm reception. Renton, Dominic, Eureka and Anemone were aroused from their peaceful slumber and quickly get their things, taking everything they had. Renton still carried all of his weapons and ammunition, as did Dominic and Holland, and he still carried the saber given to him by Jacques, in order to keep some part of Jacques alive. Eureka and Anemone still had some of the medical equipment given to them by Yvette. The doors of the lounge car slowly opened, and they were greeted by the thunderous congratulatory cheers of hundreds on the platform.

They saw them, waving little American flags, jumping and cheering and yelling and grabbing each other. Some carried signs that said things like, "NICE JOB, RENTON!" or "THUMBS UP, RENTON THURSTON!" Some little children, the eldest not more than 12 or 13, held a large banner that said in giant red letters: "WELCOME HOME, RENTON THURSTON." There was one child that stood out among the little children holding the banner: Timmy Garnett, the little blonde-haired boy who called Renton his hero. On either side of him were Maurice, Maeter and Linck, burying the animosity they once had for him and holding the banner high, with a show of respect for what he truly was to them. A hero. A real hero. Renton and the others slowly exited the train, carrying all they had, and clamored their way through the crowd. Timmy approached Renton, dressed in a miniature "Renton" costume, looking exactly like him, as a show of admiration.

"Mr. Thurston, it's so glad to have you with us again! I'm sure you gave those Germans a good whipping!"

"We sure did, Timmy," said Renton, smiling sagely. "We did that and more. We helped liberate France and gave freedom to many people."

"Boy oh boy! Gee whiz, Mr. Thurston, I wish I could've been there! I would've shown those krauts what for!" Renton kneeled so he was at eye level with the boy. He patted him on the cheek and mussed his hair.

"I'm sure you would have if you had the chance, son." He patted him on the shoulder and gave him the thumbs-up before he rose and continued to push through the crowd, beign greeted by flashing bulbs of reporters' cameras, or by reporters yelling out questions like, "How are you feeling Renton?" "Renton, is it true you went to Stalingrad to help out your friends there?" "Renton, what did you see?" "Do you have a statement you would like to make for the press?"

"No cameras, boys. No cameras!" Dominic called out, laughing. "Our hero's very tired after his long journey. You can ask him anything you want later!" They clamored through the crowd and Renton was the first one out the door, waiting on the sidewalk for the others. Dominic led the others through the crowd, and as Holland, Eureka and Anemone left the station to join Renton, Dominic saw Jane.

She stood there jumping up and down, sending her blue skirt up and down, exposing her slender legs. Her gold hair bounced in rhythm with her jumping. Her ocean blue eyes glistened, with tears that her Renton had come home safe. She clamored through the crowd and came face to face with Dominic, his uniform buttoned and belt buckled and tied, garrison cover cocked to one side, staring at her with unflinching grey eyes. Jane looked out the door and saw Renton, standing there in the cold autumn air, his trenchcoat flapping, Eureka at his side, his arms wrapped around her. She felt not jealousy but releif that he had come home safe.

"How is he?" she asked Dominic kindly in that royal British accent. Dominic looked out to his friend, his heart going out to him for all he had to put up with, for all the horror he had to take part in, all the friends he had to see die. He turned back to Jane, his stern expression unchanged.

"After all that's happened, I don't think he'll ever be the same again." Jane's face turned to a small frown. She looked to Renton, his arm still wrapped around his wife Eureka. Her heart went out to him, too, even if she never saw what he saw.

"He looks like he's been through hell."

"You'll never know what he's been through, or what he can and can't do." Jane looked to Dominic, seeing that unflinching expression, that stern yet caring feeling in his eyes for his heart-broken friend. "He's better than you, Jane. He's better than me, he's better than many people here. He always has been, and he always will be. What happened to us in Normandy proved that."

"I know you probably despise me for all the things I've done, Dominic, but can you do one thing for me?" Dominic blinked, his face stern.

"What is it?" he asked, with a heavy tone. Jane's eyes glistened, and Dominic could instantly tell she was starting to cry.

"Will you tell Renton..." She staggered, the sadness and want of redemption building inside her, "that Jane Hart sends her regrets? Will you please tell him...how...very sorry...I am?"

"I will tell him, Jane. I will tell him."

"Thank you, Dominic. Thank you." Jane hid her face in her handkerchief, wiping away tears, and stepped back into the crowd. Dominic stepped out and joined Renton and the others. Renton stood, staring with fixed eyes at the building about three blocks down. There stood tall the headquarters of the newspaper, The San Francisco Chronicle, the place where Stoner worked to get the best report to the people. Renton, of his notion and accord, and without even a word, immediately walked to the newspaper office, determined to return the remaining articles of Stoner: his camera and notepad. They soon reached the front door of the office, but it was very dark inside. It was obviously closed. Renton however, being the stubborn boy he was, would not let this stop him. He ripped of a blank piece of paper from the notepad and wrote on it the message:

_Stoner wanted me to tell you he died getting the big scoop. ---Renton Thurston_

He taped the note to the front of the camera, and set the camera and notepad down on the front doorstep of the entrance. That was done now, he thought. Now let's get going.

"Renton," Eureka said softly, "let's go home." Renton turned to his wife, flanked by Dominic, Anemone, and Holland, looking at him intently.

"Yeah," Renton said quietly as he rose. "Back to our home, where we belong."

They walked together to the bus stop where, by an amazing stroke of luck, a bus was waiting for them. They quickly climbed on, and the bus left the platform, heading north towards Marin County and Belleforest.

_(Cue In The Arms of the Angels by Sarah McLaughlin)_

Within the hour they were over the Golden Gate Bridge and approaching the town of Belleforest. They passed by girls and boys, some of them Renton and Dominic knew from school, waving to them, seeing them in the window, welcoming their long-lost friends home, home from the War of Liberation. Renton, tired and utterly exhausted from his journey, weakly waved to them before he closed his eyes, cane firmly in his hands. Dominic and the others looked at their sleeping friend, with a teary eye and a relieved smile. They had lived through sheer hell, and now they were back home where they belonged. None could be happier. They had answered the call of duty and fought bravely and brilliantly, fighitng for freedom, for liberty, fighting for the ones they loved. Eureka staggered over to Renton, still sleeping, and put her arms around her husband. They were home now. And a good thing, too. Not a moment too soon. The bus ground to a halt and Renton stirred to find Eureka holding him close. He felt he was in the arms of an angel as his arms moved on around her, pulling her in close. They were soon ordered off the bus however and they were left standing at a bus stop in the cold autumn air. Renton looked to his left to see his old home, the little bungalow on the hill. Renton immediately began to walk, placing his cane in line with his left leg, followed by his little band of friends.

They came to the house and found the front doorstep adorned with little American flags, little signs that said things like "God Bless You, Renton!" "Good Luck to You, Renton!" "We'll be Watching you...and Praying" They also saw a pile of letters and telegrams on his doorstep. Renton and the others walked slowly to the front of the house and Renton started picking out letters. They were addressed to him from all he knew at school, from his neighborhood, and from work. He read aloud to his little band the ones that stood out to him the most.

_Give those krauts a good clobbering for all of us!---Matthieu._

_May God go with you, Renton, and all who follow you. May he keep a watchful eye over you and the others, and may he give you the strength to come home in triumph.---Donald Freeman._

_Renton, you've really done it this time. You've shown us before just what a brave soul you really are, but this really tops it off. You are a real hero, Renton. You've gone to France, not just to help your friends, but insodoing you have also gone to fight the good fight, and free many people. Good luck to you, Renton, and may you and the others come home safe._

_Your friend, James Darren "Moondoggie" Emerson. _

_Renton, We're sorry we played all those jokes on you. We never knew before just what a hero you really are. You going to fight in Normandy proves it. Good luck to you and come home safe._

_Signed, Maurice Maeter and Linck._

("I knew they weren't such bad kids after all," Renton said, to the soft laughter of everyone.)

_Mr. Thurston, I hope you have a good trip and show to the world how much of a hero you really are, not just to me, but to all of us. All my friends are listening to the radio, hoping they might hear some news about you. I know that, whatever news comes our way, you will be right in the thick of it. Best of luck to you, Mr. Thurston, and best of luck to Dominic, Anemone and the others fighting with you. Keep safe._

_Your friend and biggest fan, Timothy Garnett._

("He puts me to shame," Renton said solemnly, as he shoved the note into his trenchcoat pocket, with a few select others.)

_Brother, you put me to shame. You have done more than I ever could working at Marinship. You've outdone me this time. I don't think I would ever have the courage to do what you have gone out to do. You're following the same path Father is. He's fighting for freedom and the ones he loves, just as you are. I think Father would be very proud. Go and fight the good fight, Renton, and do this family honor, as it continually gets from whatever you do. Remember what Father taught us. Never beg, and earn by winning; or else you won't get anything._

_Best of luck to you, Brother.---William "Willie" Thurston._

_Renton, I know probably you'll throw out this note, but at least read it first. I first want to wish you the best of luck in your noble and admirable endeavor. You really are a hero for doing this, despite your not wanting to be called that. I next want to extend my deepest apologies to you for what passed between us that day. I was jealous of you and Eureka, and I let my love and lust for you get the better of me. What I did is unforgiveable. I understand that now. Now I know 'tis far better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all. I got that from a book which you surely have. But truly, I was a fool. I let my emotions get the better of me and did not take into consideration your love for Eureka and how you would react to me. For that I am truly and deeply sorry. I know that you may not forgive me, and I stand in line with your decision, but first let me say that I know you and Eureka belong together. I am sure that you'll find a church somewhere in France where you can marry her and I want to extend my best wishes and many happy returns to the both of you. I know you two will be very happy together. I hope you can find it in your kind heart to forgive me and accept my apology, but if you don't, I will understand. Good luck to you, Renton, and may God watch over you._

_Your friend, Jane Hart._

Renton sighed at the last note and turned to his friends, all staring at him. Dominic stepped forward and spoke up.

"I met Jane in the train station before I went out to join you, and she wanted me to tell you that she sends her regrets for what's happened to you in France. She wants you to know how very sorry she is."

Renton looked down at the note written by Jane. How do I know this is not one of her ways at getting to me? One of her tricks to get me to go to her? Is this really her?

"What do you say, chief? Forgive and forget?" Dominic asked, smiling.

"Do you think this is really her, Dominic, and not just her trying to get to me?" Dominic shook his head.

"When I saw her in the station, she looked very, very sad and very, very sorry. She cried, if you want to know the truth." Renton sighed heavily as he looked down at the note. This is really her, he thought. If she cried, then how could it not be her? I've put her through enough. He took the note and shoved it into his pocket. He turned to his little band of friends and spoke softly and solemnly.

"You know, fellas, there is an old saying I live by: to err is human, but to forgive divine." Dominic and the others beamed. Such a kind and forgiving soul. That alone shows bravery. Anyone can hold a grudge, but it takes real courage to forgive. All problems resolved, all wrongs righted, all people forgiven. All was right again. Dominic and Anemone, however, had one last thing to say.

"Well, Renton, I guess this is where Anemone and I leave you. We're goin' home to get a good night's sleep. But...before we go, we just wanna say..." Dominic took Renton's hand, and they shook. "...it's been a privilege and an honor to serve with you. There's no one I'd rather fight under. If, God forbid, we have to go and fight again, I sincerely hope that you'll be there to lead us. I know that when you are with us, we can't fail."

Renton beamed. Dominic, one of his dearest friends. Dominic, the stern taskmaster, the drill sergeant. He was the best. He would make a good officer if he was ever given the chance. Renton and Dominic laughed as they pulled each other into a friendly embrace.

"You're a good soldier, Dominic. One of the best, if not _the_ best. Thank you, Dominic...for everything."

"It's the least I can do for my old chief." They pulled apart and saluted each other, smiling, as Dominic awaited the last orders.

"You are dismissed...Captain Sorel." Dominic smiled and he turned to his pink-haired wife, holding her pug, Gulliver in her hands.

"C'mon, Anemone. Let's go home." Anemone nodded and Gulliver barked. The jet-black haired soldier and his fiery pink haired wife took each other's hand and started their walk home to their apartment to get a good night's sleep. They deserved it, after all their harrowing adventures. Renton, Eureka and Holland waved to the two figures as they walked further into the distance, until finally, they were out of sight.

Renton turned to the door and produced a key from his trenchcoat pocket. He unlocked the door and walked into the house they had not been in for three months. Renton took a deep breath in and exhaled. It felt so good to be home. He yawned and limped to the armchair on the far side of the living room, where a table with the radio sat next to the chair. As Eureka turned to her husband, and as Holland turned to his new brother-in-law and friend, Renton turned on the radio and the old soldier fell asleep instantly to the last chords of the "Star-Spangled Banner", playing on the radio, and Eureka leaned in to kiss her husband goodnight as Edward R. Murrow came on the radio and gave the last words of send-off to all Americans tuning in...

_"Goodnight, America, and all the ships at sea."---Edward R. Murrow_

**THE END**

* * *

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed reading my story, and I sincerely hope you read the third and final installment of my historical fanfiction series, which will hopefully be coming up soon. I want to thank you all for taking the time to look at this story. It pleases me to know that people are really interested in reading something that is not just fanfic, but a retelling of history. Thank you all. 

Signed,

Renton and Eureka Forever


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